Return and Continue On
by becky2102
Summary: Sorry for the very long hiatus. I hope to be back a little more frequently now. Please check out this and any of my other stories. The return from Oregon if things had gone a little different, will the consequences save them or destroy them?
1. Chapter 1

I've tried to make some edits and correct some of the horrendous grammar, spelling and typing mistakes. Horrors of horrors I found misplaced apostrophes and used the wrong form of there/their/they're. Horrifying. I hope the corrections went through...

I don't own anything, not making money off it, etc.

Chapter 1

11AM

New York City

It was a Tuesday in mid-December. It was cold, but without the chaos of the holiday season or the deep chill of late winter. There was no snow on the ground, but the sky was dark and threatening. Olivia barely glanced both ways in the habit of a true New Yorker and hurried across the street with brisk strides, cutting across the middle of the block. She glanced up at the familiar building and strode toward the entrance. It was mid-morning. It was possible no one was there, or it was possible they all were there. She couldn't decide which was better. 'Empty' she thought, pleading with no one. 'Let it be empty.' She felt a little nausea and pushed the feeling down, willing her body to cooperate. She didn't know whether to attribute that to the recent concussion or the thought of seeing him like this. Neither were pleasant thoughts. She pulled the green military-style cap a little lower on her head, hoping to cover the purple and yellow bruise on her temple and the 7 staples that faded into her hair.

She had only arrived back in New York this morning on the red eye. She had spent the last 7 weeks undercover in northern Oregon with a radical environmental group. She had spent the 18 hours before she got on a plane in a hospital. She spent the 18 hours before that in a local police station in less than accommodating circumstances. She was exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. The undercover gig for the FBI had worn her down. She thought they had mismanaged the whole project, targeted the wrong people and misjudged the dangerous leaders of the group. The FBI had erred badly in their assessment of Ethan Jones, the leader of the radical environmental group the EFA. Their miscues and lack of communication had led the entire group to be placed under siege, in rural Oregon, at the beginning of winter. They lived in old trailers and lived on the land, using natural gas and propane when necessary. By the end of the siege, which the FBI had mistakenly believed would last only a week at most, it had been almost 5 weeks. They had counted on Ethan turning over his people, not wanting to sacrifice them to the elements. What they had not counted on was the blind faith he had in his ideals and the ability to enforce his will on those in his encampment. They had spent over 30 days with no heat and barely any food. She calculated at most they were getting 600 calories a day, mostly in rice and tofu. One of the other members gave everyone packets of fresh herbs, which still grew in the cold, damp Oregon woods in order to prevent scurvy. Scurvy! Olivia didn't even know that was a thing people still got, she had assumed that went out the window with cholera and hard-tack. She closed her eyes, the memories pushing themselves into her thoughts, jumping over one another in a disorganized pile in her mind. It still hurt too much to think about Ginny, about the things she had helped her get through, and to remember what had happened to her. She felt with her hand the tender lump on her temple. 'What went wrong Ginny, how could that have happened? How could I have LET that happen?' she thought for the thousandth time. She shook her head to clear her mind as she jogged up the last few stairs. She panted a little at the slight effort. She was run down; it was going to take a while to get back into shape. She hadn't gotten on a scale recently but she figured she was down probably 20 pounds from her pre-Oregon weight. Her clothes felt like they belonged to someone else and her skin felt like a costume, her face a mask. She kept her head down as she flashed her badge at the young officer at the gate. She didn't recognize him. How quickly things changed in only 7 quick weeks.

Opting for the elevator instead of her usual stairs, she came into the second floor bullpen. A quick glance around told her it was a quiet morning. A slow day. Fin and Munch were nowhere to be found. Elliot's desk was empty but looked like he had thrown his coffee and paper down; he had been in at some point in the morning. A blond woman sat reviewing files at the desk next to Elliot's. The desk opposite him, her desk, her Old desk, was still empty. "Excuse me?" she asked the blond woman. The woman looked up and Olivia swore she was analyzing her.

"Can I help you?"

"Is Elliot Stabler in?" She asked. She couldn't help herself, and she regretted it the minute the words were out of her mouth.

"He's in interrogation. Can I help you with something?" the woman asked with a gentle voice. Olivia felt herself wanting to explain herself to this stranger. 'She's good at her job' she thought with a mental snide remark. "No, thank you, I'll just go see the Captain."

She walked across the bullpen and knocked on the closed door. She could see the familiar face of her captain through the open blinds.

"Come in." She opened the door and slid inside as Captain Cragan looked up.

"Olivia!" he said, half exclamation, half question. "You're back"

"I'm back." She replied, taking another step into the office.

"Sit down" He barked, a little too gruffly. "You are a sight for sore eyes. When did you get back?"

She stepped into his office, stood behind the armchairs in front of the big wooden desk, but she didn't sit as he had requested.

"Just this morning. I, uh, I just wanted to let someone know I was back in the city. I can't…I mean… I'm not ready to come back yet. I need some time. Need to work through some things." She paused, her voice was low, he had to strain to her hear. "I just wanted to let you know I was back." she repeated, suddenly feeling silly for wanting someone to know she was back in the city.

He looked at her then. Really looked at her. The Olivia Benson that he had known 7 weeks ago was hard to see. In front of him he saw a thin, pale woman, clearly fatigued, large dark eyes slightly unfocused, a far cry from the determined, vibrant woman he had known. THAT Olivia Benson never asked for time to work though things, she buried herself in her work, even when she SHOULD take time to work though things, like a tough case, a stalker, a parent's death.

"What did they do to you, Olivia?" he asked concernedly. She looked at him and smiled softly. "I'm fine, Captain. I just have to tie up some loose ends with the Feds. They tell me I need to be 'debriefed' which I am fairly certain means 'listen to what I did wrong' and then attend 'reorientation sessions' which I am betting are equal to getting my head shrunk. They won't release me for at least another week and I'd like to take another week after that for some…" she paused and looked down, fingers unconsciously running over the bruise at her temple again. Her eyes unfocused and she leaned forward and put her weight on the armchair across from the desk. "…Some personal things." She felt the same nausea and wondered briefly if she'd be able to stay on her feet. Standing for long, or even moderate amounts of time was still challenging, it was when the dizzy spells were at their worst.

Cragen nodded and squinted at her. "Olivia." She looked up at him and refocused. "Take off your hat." Olivia sighed. "Cap, I'm fine."

"I believe you." He said. "Now take off your hat." She looked at him and sighed as she pulled the cap from her head. Cragen took two steps toward her. "Good god Olivia! What did they hit you with? A baseball bat?"

She looked up at him "Yeah," she replied. "I think it was, one of those old wooden ones that kids use. It might've been a billy club, it was hard to tell in the chaos." He jerked up at that response. He hadn't been serious, but the thought of someone taking a swing at his detective with a baseball bat made him cringe.

"What kind of operation are they running over there?"

"You don't want to know Captain." She put the cap back on and brushed her hair over the bruise. She came and sat in the chair, knees on her elbows and gave her old Captain the abbreviated version of the hell she had just been though. Not all of it though, she couldn't tell him that. Couldn't even let herself think about that yet. "I'll get in touch with you as soon as I hear from the Feds. 1PP knows that I'm, they are working to find a place for me, I know I left you guys in a pinch and you had to fill my spot." She looked over her shoulder at the blond at the desk.

"Two weeks, Liv? Let me make some calls, move some things around. See if we can get a spot for you here. I'm not losing a highly effective, trained detective because of bureaucracy." She smiled at his tone, the first sign of the old Olivia he had seen. "Thanks. I'll be in touch."

"Olivia, where are you going now?" her boss asked, concerned.

"Home. I haven't had a warm shower or slept in a real bed in over 6 weeks, I haven't had a good meal in over a month. I'm going to enjoy it." He only nodded at her, a silent signal of assent.

She slid out the door as quickly as she came in, walking quickly across the familiar, still empty room. Elliot was still in interrogation. She was relieved. She wasn't ready to face him right now. She swung around the outside of the bullpen and left the folded newspaper she had in her bag on Munch's desk.

"Excuse me" she said to the blond woman. She knew this woman was

Stabler's new partner, her replacement. "Will you tell Munch I left something for him on his desk."

"Sure" she replied gently. "Are you sure there is nothing else you need?"

Olivia could feel her eyes evaluating her, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, the bruise, the attempt to hide it, the scrapes, her defeated posture. 'She thinks I'm a victim' she thought, which made her both angry and sad.

"No," Olivia replied hastily. "Nothing else." And she got out of the building as quickly as possible.

Olivia rushed home, grabbing a taxi down Central Park West towards her apartment. She couldn't wait to get home. Hopefully her things had been delivered to her apartment. She had been scooped out of the police station and into the hospital when she passed out in the holding cell and no one had grabbed her belongings, scant as they may be. They had put her directly on a plane to

New York, promising they would gather her things and deliver them to

New York. She had her passport and her pocketbook, her keys, her cellphone, which currently wasn't connected, things that her supervising agent had kept for her while she was inside. She had a small bag of toiletries she'd picked up at the airport, along with the local newspaper she'd picked up before she'd left Portland. She smiled at the thought of the paper. She knew that Munch would put two and two together, and save her from having to explain everything. Finally inside her apartment, which smelled stale and dusty, she took the longest, hottest shower she could stand. Clean and skin scrubbed pink, she thought a shower had never felt so good in her entire life. She looked longingly at her bed as she stripped the sheets and grabbed some clean ones to put on the bed later. She was so tired, tired of life. She glanced at the bedside clock. Twenty minutes until she had to be downtown. She grabbed her bag and coat and scarf and the same green cap and hurried downstairs to find a cab.

1-6 Station House

Fin and Munch walked into the bullpen, coffee in hands, arguing about something. Dani looked up at them as Elliot came around the corner from the interrogation rooms.

"You get anything from him?" Fin asked, referring to a suspect they'd been trying to get a confession from in the interrogation room.

"He copped to the robbery, but wouldn't say anything about the girl. It took me 90 minutes to get that out of him and then the little jerk lawyered up. We have nothing." Elliot scoffed, clearly irritated at his own failure.

Fin sat down and was sorting though paperwork at his desk, grumbling to

himself.

Munch had picked up the newspaper he'd found on his chair and was flipping through it, sitting on the side of the desk as the detectives waited for the meeting their boss had scheduled to review their active cases.

Dani looked up at Elliot. "A woman stopped by looking for you earlier. Didn't leave a name."

Elliot flipped through his messages, unconcerned. "What did she want?" People were always looking for him, she would come back or leave a message if it was important.

"Don't know." Dani replied. She asked for you and then went and talked to the captain.

"Hmm" Elliot replied, non-chalantly. getting his files and heading back towards the interrogation rooms.

Fin glanced up at his partner. "What're you reading, man, another conspiracy newsletter?"

"Nope," He replied, he flipped the front page over and showed it to them. "The Portland Gazette. Someone left it on my desk. Pretty sleepy little paper if you ask me."

Dani perked up. "Oh, Elliot's mystery visitor? She said she left something on your desk for you."

"Hmphh" Munch replied, turning the pages. "Hey," he said a few minutes later. "What did this woman say exactly? Did she ask where my desk was? If John Munch worked here?" he questioned Dani.

"No," she replied. "Just said on her way out 'Tell Munch I left something on his desk."

"So she knew I worked here, and where my desk was?" Munch asked.

Fin jumped in "What now, someone else is spying on you, keeping track of your periodical interests?" He loved any opportunity to give his partner a hard time about his idiosyncrasies.

Munch turned to his partner, part grin, part sneer on his weathered face. His dark glasses obscured his eyes. "Dani, what did this woman look like?"

"I dunno," Dani replied. "Tallish, maybe 5'8, brown hair, skinny. Too skinny, like I wanted to give her a cheeseburger. Kind of looked like she'd had a hard time, roughed up a bit, but she didn't want to make a report . Why?

"I think she's back." He replied with a grin. Slapped the newspaperon top of Fin's pile of paperwork scattering a pile of photos.

"What the -? What's this?" Fin protested.

Munch tapped the paper on his desk a few times. "Look at the headline. FBI Bust of Radical Enviro Group Leads to Arrests in MedeCo Bombing. Portland, Oregon. FBI. Environmental Group."

Fin grabbed the paper from him and scanned the article. "One member of the group, placed under arrest and later taken to a hospital for treatment remains missing, she is wanted for questioning." He read.

"Questioning, or maybe sent back to her old life. Dude." He exclaimed. "She's back!"

"Who's back?" Elliot asked, re-entering the room.

The two male detectives looked at him. Stabler looked at them and then at Dani. "Don't look at me" she said, "I have no idea what they are talking about."

Fin looked down at the paper and then at Elliot. "Benson. She's back."

Elliot shot them a look that made Dani think sparks were going to come out of his eyes. He grabbed the paper from Fin, glanced at the article and flipped it around to see the name of the paper. "Portland" he said. He grabbed his phone and dialed a number. He hung up quickly. "Still disconnected." He said, sounding either disappointed or angry, or both.

Cragen walked out of his office, coat over his arm. He was still aggravated over what he had heard earlier that morning. He wasn't going to just sit and wait to see how this panned out; he planned on heading downtown to the FBI offices for a meeting with the only contact he had regarding the case Olivia had been working on.

As he approached the group, he interrupted "Meeting needs to be rescheduled. Something came up."

Elliot turned around. He didn't beat around the bush. "Did Olivia come see you this morning?"

Cragen stopped walking and looked at the man in front of him. He looked like a spring, compressed, about to jerk up unpredictable. He was practically buzzing. The other detectives were hovering, clearly interested in what his answer was going to be.

"Yes, she did."

"So she's back"

"Yes"

"When?"

"She said just this morning."

Elliot turned away, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Give her some time." Cragen advised. "She's been through a lot. She'll contact you when she's ready. What are you going to do, burst into her apartment? Let her come to us, to you. You know she will."

"Do I?" he muttered as he turned back to his desk.

"But she's coming back though, right Cap?" Fin asked.

"She'll be back. Just don't know when yet." He reshuffled his bag and coat and headed out the door, leaving the others to stare at each other.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

4PM

Olivia paid the cabbie as she climbed out of the cab, swearing under her breath at the dizzy spell that had her grabbing the top of the door. She'd been plagued by periodic dizziness and nausea since the night of the raid. The doctors said it was normal after a concussion and the symptoms should start to fade in the next few weeks. It was part of the reason she wanted to delay going back to work, it would be easier than explaining everything to her colleagues.

She looked up at the address she'd been given. It was an average looking building on a nice block on the outskirts of Tribeca. It was hard to tell if it was an apartment or an office building. Glancing at the signs in the lobby as she walked though, she guess residential. Wondering if she had the right address, she found the right unit number and knocked. The door opened after a very brief pause. George Huang stood in front of her, opened the door fully and gesturedher in.

"Olivia, it's good to see you!"

"Thanks Doc, it's good to be back. Thank you for..." she paused, not sure what to call this. "Thanks for agreeing to see me."

After ending up in the hospital, she had met with her Case Agent Dean Porter and the Lead Agent, a guy she had only met once before named Gary Bradford. After telling them all she knew, answering all their questions and refusing to answer hardly any of hers, they had told her she was required to meet with a staff psychiatrist before being released. Standard protocol they had said, deep undercover work was stressful and they wanted to make sure they took care of their people. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, and told them so, wondering how they could have such careless disregard during the operation but afterwards laying down the law with the pretense of concern for her health. Finding them unmoving and even unmoved, she had agreed. "Huang." She said. "I'll talk to Huang, no one else, I don't want to be shrinked by some other stranger you have in your pocket."

"Huang?" Dean replied. "George Huang? How do you know him?"

"I've...I've worked with him before, in New York. He's helped us out on a few cases. He'll agree I think."

"Fine," Bradford had said. I'll set it up. You have a ticket on the last flight out tonight, the red eye through Chicago." he said, passing her an envelope with a plane ticket and some cash. Your bank accounts and credit cards will be unfrozen today, your cell phone reactivated, we'll have the things we picked up from the camp delivered to you."

She had received a call while she was waiting for her flight from

Dean, giving her the address and telling her Huang was expecting her at 4pm.

Huang walked her over to a couch and offered her something to drink.

She accepted his offer for tea. As he walked into the kitchen to prepare the tea, she sat on the couch he had offered and glanced around the apartment. There were few decorations but what were there were tastefully done, she saw a few photographs and resisted the urge to get up and get a closer look. She settled for the staring out the window, which showed a partial cityscape of the westside.

Huang walked in the room and set two mugs of tea on the coffee table, gesturing towards her to take the mug. She reached down and pulled the mug into her lab, sitting quietly. He watched her closely, noting her body language. She seemed to be trying to make herself smaller.

"So what did you want to talk about, Olivia?" he asked calmly.

She looked up at him. "I don't really want to talk about anything." she said straight. "They told me I have to so..." she shrugged.

"Undercover operations, especially deep and long term ones are stressful on the body, emotionally, mentally and physically. You look like you already know about that." He expected some kind of response and went on when he didn't get one. "You need to address what you've been through, that's what they want, just for you to acknowledge it. You're strong enough to get through anything, but you need to address it before you can get over it. When you are undercover, it's extremely difficult to process anything. You are working to hard to make it through the days and weeks as another person. You don't process anything until it's over. It's why the first few days are so difficult: Sensory overload"

"I don't know where to start," she stated quietly, playing with the string of the teabag. She sat back on the couch, with the mug of tea warming her hands, she could feel the adrenaline she'd been running on for the last day, week, month leaving her body. She could feel the fatigue in her bones practically pulling her down into the couch. She felt like a stranger, like someone she didn't know living her old life. It was comparable to walking through a really thick fog, she knew where she was, but everything else seemed to be shifting around her. She sat silently as she felt Huang's eyes on her. He regarded her without moving, as if moving himself would spook her. He'd never seen this woman act like this.

"Why don't you start by telling me how you got that bruise?" he suggested. Her hand immediately went to her temple, where the staples were seen poking out the bottom of the cap, right at the edge of the hairline. If you didn't look closely the staples got lost in her dark hair and the edges of the bruise were fading to yellow, easy to miss if you were not very observant.

"I don't really remember," she started. "There was a raid. It was dark and chaotic. It was the FBI, but they had the local police there. The local guys knew the group, we had been a pain in their ass, a thorn in their side for months. They were angry. I remember getting caught in their kettle drum and they were coming at us, swinging, I saw Ginny..." She paused, should didn't want to go down that path, couldn't right now. She took the easy way out. "After that I woke up on the ground, bleeding from the head, I was pulled up and thrown into a paddy wagon." She shrugged.

"Olivia, what were you doing there?"

She glanced up at him, "Don't you have the report?"

"No," he replied, "They haven't sent it over yet. But it doesn't really matter. You need to tell me. Whether I know what happened or not, you need to tell me more than I need to hear it. You've told victims that hundreds of time. You know how it works." He paused to let her process that. "Why don't you start at the beginning."

She leaned forward, her arms folded across her front, as if she were almost trying to protect herself. "I was a member of the EFA, a radical environmental group. They were active in New York and when we'd done some work here I gained access as a member, it was easy enough to make the move as that person to Oregon, where they were headquartered. It was mostly small potatoes stuff, protesting companies with poor environmental records, disturbing the peace, blocking public access, that kind of thing. The Feds were involved because they thought the leaders of the EFA were also involved in a couple of assaults and bombings of company execs cars and one on a research lab. I was supposed to get close, find out what they were planning and let the Feds know before it all went down. Everything went well for the first week or so, then for whatever reason, this guy Ethan Jones, one of the leaders they were looking into, starting ratcheting up the rhetoric, talking about going back to living off the land, how modern conveniences were destroying the planet and how there was no middle ground. He got everyone out to a compound, a camp, out in rural Oregon. There were a bunch of old trailers and tent cabins for us to stay in, an old water pump, some surrounding farms where we could barter work for food; some people fished in the river. The place was designed for summer. There wasn't any heat, no hot water. It's winter. I don't think I've been properly warm since I left New York." She wrapped her arms around her midsection, as if she was remembering the cold trying to warm herself.

"It was a little surreal, almost like an extended camping trip. Jones and a couple of the other leaders let a few of us in on the plans they had, I let the Feds know when I got into contact with them, which wasn't often. I had a pager that received texts which I checked twice a day, I hid it in the old heating duct in the trailer I was sleeping in. After the first week the Feds closed off the roads, they cut off our access to food, and the little propane we were using for heat and fuel. By the end of that first week we were already rationing food. They misjudged, George. They totally misgauged how fanatical these guys were. They were willing to let their own people starve to prove their point and the Feds should have known that, or maybe they did know and they just didn't care. I didn't know the raid was going to happen that night."

She paused, opened her mouth a few times to continue, but something held her back, like she was trying to choose her words or figure out how to say what she meant. "Someone was staying at my trailer that night, I couldn't check the pager without getting caught. When we heard the noise, we ran outside...I lost..." She stopped talking and looked down, shifting in her seat.

Huang looked over at her. He could see the dark circles under her eyes, she looked pale, and thin. He could tell she had lost significant weight even with the thick winter clothes she was wearing. He waited for her to go on on her own. She sat, looking at her tea, still folded over, rocking barely perceptibly as she perched on the edge of the couch.

When she didn't go on, he prompted her. "What did you lose, Liv?" When he got no response, he took a gamble. "Who was at your place that night? Why were they there?"

"I..." Olivia looked up at him, a look in her brown eyes like was confused because she didn't know the answer, or perhaps she didn't know WHY she couldn't answer. She stood up quickly. "I'm not ready to talk about that yet," she said quietly. She grabbed her coat and walked quickly towards the front door, tipping against the hallway wall as another dizzy spell hit her. She swore under her breath.

Just as she reached the door "Olivia!" She stopped but didn't turn around. In her mind she was begging him to let her go, let her escape. "Same time tomorrow." he said, half statement and half question. She gave a brief nod to acknowledge that she had heard him and practically ran out of the room. He stood in the doorway watching her down the hall. She frantically pushed the button for the elevator and when it didn't arrive right away she took a quick glance at the stairwell and ran down the 8 flights of stairs as if something was chasing her. Huang stood there for a moment contemplating the things he had just learned. Benson was a predictably private person, she didn't like talking to psychiatrists or anyone really about herself and especially not her feelings. He'd often encountered resistance to her sharing personal details, but this was different. Benson could get angry, she let her empathy show when she worked with the victims, but she covered her own personal emotions almost completely while at work. He suspected that transferred to her personal life as well. You never could know what she was thinking or feeling behind those eyes. Years as a cop and as a neglected child had taught her that.

This was different though. This was not Benson not showing her emotions. She seemed almost anxious to show them but wasn't able to.

She seemed genuinely unable to broach what had happened, either in words or emotionally. This was not your typical post-undercover briefing. Something had happened, something had not gone as planned.

He had his concerns about the story she had told him about the operation as well. He quickly turned back into the apartment, grabbed his bag and his long winter coat and followed her out of the apartment, heading downtown towards the FBI headquarters.

Downtown, at headquarters, it hadn't taken him long to find the files he needed. They were incomplete, with the majority of the field reports and analysis of the final raid and arrests still in progress, but he found enough information to make him quite angry. Olivia's assessment of the leaders and the FBIs mismanagement of the situation was accurate and it seemed the FBI not only knew of the conditions in the camp, but were intent on exploiting the physical deconditioning of the people inside. Slamming the folders shut and tossing them back to the admin assistant that had helped him, he set off to find the Lead Agent. As he entered Bradford's office, he noted a suitcase in the corner. He must have arrived back in the city not long after Olivia.

Bradford was a middle aged man, brown hair, slight paunch. He appeared to be sorting through email at the computer. Huang knocked and walked him and began to give Bradford a piece of his mind. The walls were a little too thin for this kind of conversation he thought briefly. He put it out of his mind, it probably wasn't the first time this had happened. He continued to lay into the agent.

Don Cragan walked briskly into the 5th flood offices of the FBI. The assistant at the front had directed him towards the office of the agent he wanted to talk to. As he approached the office he heard yelling and immediately slowed his pace. Approaching slowly, he was grateful when he saw the door open and was surprised when he recognized the man coming out of Bradford's office.

"Doc!" he said with surprise. Huang looked at him, slightly pink the face as if from exertion and acknowledged him with a slight nod.

Cragen asked "Were you here to see about Ben-"

He was cut off by Huang stating "Good afternoon Captain, good to see you." as he looked him in the eye. Cragan got the hint and didn't finish his question. He nodded slightly and continued walking into the office.

Elliot had been sitting at his desk, ostensibly doing paperwork, a pen in his hand. He hadn't written down a thing in over 20 minutes. Finally he stood, grabbed his keys and coat. "I've got to take care of something, cover for me, Beck," he said as he walked out of the room. He was gone before any of them could respond.

"What was that about?" Dani asked.

"I've got one guess." Fin replied with a sarcastic tone. "Never could be patient, that guy." He turned back to the files he was reviewing.

'What do you mean?" Dani asked.

"Those two have had something in each others craw ever since that kidnapping case with Gitano a few years back. Stresses me out just thinking about it, they're stretched on a wire when it comes to each other. I mean, Stabler's always been sort of a loose cannon, but not like the past few weeks. That's not really him. I think Benson just disappearing like that hit him hard."

"What really happened with her?" the blond detective asked. "I never got the full story."

"We don't really know the full story," Munch piped in. "There was a case, an extreme environmental terrorist group, the FBI was involved, Liv was working an angle with them and then one day, the day after we closed the case, Liv didn't show up, her phone was disconnected. All we knew was she was on loan to the Feds and no one knew where or why or for how long. We figured Oregon, since the group we were working here had connections there, but that was it, until today."

"So you think he's gone to look for her." she replied.

"Of course. I'm surprised he lasted this long."

A few blocks away, Elliot jogged up to her apartment entrance and hit the buzzer from the entrance alcove. He could see Joseph, the old man who was half security guard, half doorman inside. He buzzed again and again without response. After laying on the buzzer for 5 minutes, he sighed and looked up to see Joseph holding open the inner door.

"Hey Mister Stabler." he said in a soft drawl. "Long time no see. Miss

Benson isn't home, so stop bothering the neighbors."

"Have you seen her?" Elliot asked sharply, immediately feeling bad at his tone towards the old man.

"Sure did. Was glad to see her too, I was a little worried, young lady not being around for a month and a half. I thought maybe she went on vacation, but...well, she's back now."

"Did she say anything to you?" Elliot asked.

"Just that she was glad to be home."

Elliot turned to leave, "Do me a favor, don't mention that I stopped by?"

"Hmmm" Joseph replied. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," Elliot replied, "Just a concerned old friend."

Returning to the station house 30 minutes later, Dani looked up as she he walked in.

"That was fast" she said. "I didn't do any of your paperwork, you still have to finish it. Did you find her?"

Elliot looked up in surprise from his desk.

"What?" Dani said, "You are not as sneaky as you think, everyone can see through you."

"No," he admitted, "she wasn't home. Cell phone is still disconnected." He looked at the other detectives.

"Listen to the Cap, Elliot" Fin said, "She'll call you when she's ready."

Elliot didn't reply, but slapped the papers on his desk a little harder in frustration.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Olivia practically crawled up to her apartment. Whatever fumes she had been running on were gone. Letting herself inside, she swore silently that the bed was still unmade. She tugged the fitted sheets onto the bed, put a single pillowcase on one pillow and pulled the flat sheet and comforter over her, not even caring the her stomach was rumbling. She was used to that by now. As she pulled the blankets over her shoulders, she swore nothing had ever felt so good as her own bed.

Waking up the next day disoriented, she tried not to move as the familiar features of her bedroom came into focus. The white winter light was coming in her window with the hazy look that defied attempts to tell what time it was. Not wanting to disturb the deliciously comfortable feeling, she moved slightly so the clock came into view. 12:55 the clock said. She had slept for over 18 hours.

Slowly sitting up and climbing out of bed, taking her time to avoid getting dizzy, she willed her body to cooperate. Her stomach growled as she padded into the kitchen. Silently giving thanks for the myriad of delivery options in New York, she pulled out a takeout menu, the one from the diner that served breakfast all day. She fumbled around, looking for the phone that belonged to her landline and promptly ordered enough food for three people.

She spent the rest of her day cleaning, dusting and decontaminating the disaster that was inside her fridge. Everything but the condiments she simply tossed in the trash, not wanting to even take the chance at looking at it. Luckily, she was never one to keep much food around. Drinking the last of the coffee from an oversized mug, she took a look around her apartment. It was finally starting to feel like home again. She glanced at the clock. She had just enough time to get cleaned up before heading back down to Huang's. Fifteen minutes later she grabbed her bag and cell phone out of habit, and wondering if Porter had made good on his promise to reactivate her phone, she pressed the on button and was denied the familiar beep. 'Should have known' she thought, making a mental note to get a hold of Dean Porter and find out where the rest of her things were as well. She indifferently tossed the phone into her bag and headed out of the apartment.

As the cabbie dropped her off in front of Huang's building, she looked up, regretting that she had to go up. Suddenly her energy from early in the day had disappeared. Riding up in the elevator, she wondered how much Huang had found out in the last 24 hours. She knocked on the door and he answered quickly, as he had done the day before. He took her coat and gestured towards the couch as he went to the kitchen.

"Another tea?" he asked.

"Please, that'd be great." She replied.

He came into the living room shortly and handed her the mug. She smelled the Earl Grey and smiled, it was a comforting smell. "You look better." He mentioned casually.

She smiled. "It's amazing what 18 hours of sleep in a real bed and a New York breakfast can do." He smiled back at her as she settled down into the couch, avoiding further eye contact.

"I paid a visit to headquarters yesterday. I read the reports, incomplete as they were. And today I received the rest of your file." He watched her for reaction. There was none, she didn't lift her eyes from the tea. "I still need you to tell me what happened." Still no response. She seemed to be on a different planet. He called her name twice without getting a reaction. "Benson!" she jumped at hearing her last name, sloshing a little tea onto the back of her hand. She quickly brought her hand to her mouth to cool it off.

"Sorry," she replied. "I got lost in my thoughts."

"That's okay. Why don't you tell me what happened after the raid?" If he could get her talking eventually he's get her back to the important issues, this one seemed to be a safer topic than the days leading up to the raid.

"I remember the noise and the confusion and I vaguely remember someone coming at me swinging as they were pushing us all together, I remember thinking it was a baseball bat, but it was probably just a billy club. The next thing I remember is waking up on the ground, feeling something wet in my ear. I was behind the trailer, I don't remember getting there. I didn't seen any of the others at first, but one of the agents had been watching me, I don't know if he knew who I was or not, probably he did and that's why he was standing there, but he pulled me up, made sure I could stand and then cuffed me and pulled me over to the paddy wagon. T-bone and Red were there, they were the closest thing I had for friends there. They were locals, interested in the local protests, had nothing to do with the big time stuff, but they got me in to see the people that they thought might know things.

They warned me not to get involved with the big timers, said they were into things that were no good. On the way to the police station they told me that the FBI had hauled everybody away in wagons, except for Jones and his number two guy who I only knew as Joe Blue. I have no idea what his true name was. Those two got taken away in squad cars individually. The piled us into the local holding cells at the jail. It was a small station, only two cells and they definitely weren't meant to hold that many people. A lot of us were beat up, a couple bruises and a few broken bones. Red looked like she'd been punched, she had a black eye, I was the only one who really had any sort of head injury except..." She stopped suddenly. Huang waited, giving her a moment to see if she would finish her thought. This time she did. "Except Ginny, she wasn't there." She paused again. "One of the other guys said he thought he'd seen both us us go down at the same time with blows to the head, but no one seemed to know where she had gone. We were there for maybe 12-18 hours. They would periodically pull one of us out to question us and then throw us back in the tank. I kept waiting for my turn and I, uh, I think I kept passing out because I would open my eyes and time seemed to pass at different times, it would drag by and then I would be missing whole hours of time. Finally I got up to see if I could get some water. My head was pounding and spinning and I couldn't stand up straight. I think I must've passed out onto the floor. I could hear T-bone calling my name but I couldn't talk back to him. After that I woke up in the hospital with 6 staples in my head and Dean Porter at my bedside, telling me it was over and they were sending me back to New York." She stopped and waited, catching a mental break. Huang sat quietly and let her process what she had just told him. He knew most of that, it was in the report he had gotten, there were no surprises there, but he also knew she had skimmed over the parts that he thought were going to be the most intense for her. He'd seen the medical record as well as the final report of the raid. "Did you ever find out what happened to your friend?" he asked.

She looked up sharply. "Ginny?" she asked. He nodded at her. She looked back down. "Yeah," she said softly, "she died. She was hit in the head during the raid, she never work up. The doctor at the hospital told me. Subdural hematoma."

"I'm sorry, Liv," Huang replied softly. "It sounds like you became close,"

"Yeah. She..."

There was another silent pause, the kind where the little noises of a New York apartment like traffic and the radiator and the neighbors next door become amplified while your mind begs for true peace.

"She what, Olivia?" he pressed.

"She helped me through a lot."

"What did she help you through?"

Olivia didn't reply at first, she turned and looked at the window, at the darkening winter sky. It was starting to snow, she thought, silently relishing the thought of something coming that could cover all the crime and dirt and noise. She wished there was something that could do that for her. To let her cover up all that had happened, something to give her a blank slate.

"What did she help you with, Olivia?" he repeated.

"How much of the medical record did they send you?" she asked. He at first thought she was changing the subject, but after a second, he realized what she was getting after. "Just the basics, what you were admitted for, discharge diagnosis and a brief discharge summary." He wondered where she was going with this.

She nodded. "I didn't know." she said suddenly, holding back tears that threatened without warning. "I swear I didn't know or I never would have gone." She sat up straight and he could see he physically forcing her emotions back below the surface.

"What didn't you know?"

She looked up at him. He looked back, not changing his expression. She was going to have to volunteer this information; he couldn't force it out of her. She took a deep breath and sighed. Glancing back up at him and then back down at her hands she began to speak slowly, so quietly he could barely make out what she was saying.

"Two or three days before the raid, I hadn't been feeling well. Nothing dramatic, just not my normal self. I chalked it up to everything else that was going on. There had been radio silence from the Feds for three days, there still wasn't any food. My gums had started bleeding the day before, Ginny had been going around given everyone herbs that she had been growing to chew on to prevent scurvy." She grimaced at that, still unbelieving that that actually happened. "I started bleeding that morning, I didn't think anything of it, just a regular period. I hadn't been keeping track, there had been too much going on but the timing seemed about right, I wasn't late or anything. Then mid-morning I started throwing up. It was like nothing I've ever had it my life, repetitive, unrelenting retching. I couldn't stop. Ginny had stopped by and took one look at me and kind of took over, got me out of the bathroom, where I'd on my knees all morning, onto the couch. She got me settled, took a good look at me and said..."

She stopped. She didn't think she could do this. It was too hard. Maybe she could just leave, like yesterday. She didn't look up.

"What did she say, Liv?". Olivia refused to look at him. She didn't want to say it. Didn't want to make it real. If no one knew maybe it wouldn't be real. After an eternity of silence, the rational side of her brain took over and forced herself to say the words.

"I don't know how she knew, I certainly had no idea. She asked me... She asked me how far gone I was." Liv looked sideways, out the window, tears shining in her eyes, threatening to fall. "I swear I had no idea. I didn't even know what she was talking about at first." Huang sat with a calm look on his face. He wasn't sure what she was talking about either, but he didn't want to interrupt her now, he was sure he'd never get her talking again. "I started doing the math, it couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 weeks, at the most. There wasn't...It had to have been... Ginny said it was genetics, when it happened that early, nothing that I had done or could have done to stop it." She stopped then, set her mug on the table and returned to the scrunched position, feet on the floor, arms folded across her front, staring down.

"You were pregnant." Huang stated gently, but bluntly.

"I swear I didn't know, if I had, I would've gotten out, I wouldn't have stayed, I would've called them. Would have done something." Her voice was bordering on panicking, her eyes were darting back and forth. She fixed on Huang, as if she were begging him to acknowledge was she was saying. Her eyes were huge, pupils dilated, her breathing rapid. "I know, I know." he said comfortingly. "It wasn't your fault, there was nothing you could have done. Your friend was correct, that early, miscarriages occur frequently, as often as 1 in 5 pregnancies. Even if you had known, it's almost impossible that anything you could have done would have changed the outcome."

"I know. I mean, I know that" she said, tapping her head, "but I don't FEEL like I know it." She waited, waited for him to say something. He didn't. After a moment she looked up at him. "Was that in the medical report?" she asked, curious as to if her request had been granted. She'd asked the doctor to leave that out of the medical records that were going back to the bureau. He'd assured her he would mark the record in generic terms.

"No." Huang replied. "It lists your diagnoses as Concussion – Blunt Head Trauma, Dehydration and Anemia related to blood loss. It is unusual for a relatively simple head trauma to cause significant blood loss. Most medical professionals will wonder about that."

She nodded. Several minutes passed before she began to speak again. The words seemed easier now.

"She was staying with me, she stayed just the two nights, I mean, I didn't need her, there wasn't anything drastically wrong with me, but she just kind of made herself at home and, and, I... I let her. That's why I couldn't get to the pager, the first day I couldn't stand up without puking my guts out, much less climb on a chair to get to the vent and the second day Ginny didn't leave me alone for a second. Then the raid happened. I lost track of her. We both ran outside and were immediately shoved by the police in riot gear. I remember yelling and seeing someone take a swing at me, I saw Ginny out the corner of my eye. She had this really curly grey hair and I remember seeing it in the light. Then I lost her." She shrugged again, and stared out the window.

"How does that make you feel?"

"Hmphh, which part?" He could hear the barely controlled angry emotion in her voice, almost as if it had dropped an octave. "The part where the only person who helped me like a mother is supposed to was killed outright, the part where I miscarried a baby I didn't know I had and didn't know I wanted, the part where we were left to starve by our own government? How do I feel!" Even the question made her feel angry. She calmed herself and took a few breaths.

"I'm angry. And guilty."

"You have every right to be angry, those are horrible things that shouldn't happen to anyone. Why do you feel guilty?"

"Because..." she paused again. Huang noticed the thought blocking process again, like she couldn't say the words, her mind was preventing her from doing so as a defense mechanism. This was what he needed to break down. He waited patiently, letting her mind process everything and correct itself. The mind was a powerful thing, it could overcome almost anything, sometimes it just needed a little push in the right direction.

"Because I am relieved." she finally said quietly. She looked down, like a small child would when admitting they had done something wrong.

"Why do you feel relieved?" Huang pushed gently.

After a time she replied "Because I can't take care of a baby or raise a child here, by myself, I work long hours at a dangerous job and have no support structure. It's just me. It would be unfair to bring a child into that, and so I felt relieved that I wouldn't have to and I feel guilty because I couldn't and even more guilty because I didn't want to. Who does that? Who feels relieved when they lose something so precious? What kind of person does that? I... I don't want anyone to know. They would all look at me differently if they knew, like I was undeserving, unworthy, which I am, but they can't know that." Her thoughts were just spilling from her mouth, in run on sentences, without thinking what she was saying. "Plus...plus...I let the police hit me in the head, knock me out, I let my friend get killed. I let down my guard and look what happened. If they find out, how will they ever trust me to have their back again. How will he ever ..."

"Olivia, these are complex emotions for a very complicated situation.

There are no right or wrong, no good or bad feelings about this. It's a horrible situation but IT"S NOT YOUR FAULT and no one will think badly of you for what happened or for how you feel about it. There were extenuating circumstances, and even if there hadn't been, how were you supposed to defend yourself and your friends against armed police, especially when you hadn't eaten a good meal in weeks. They won't think those things."

"I think they will." She said back, a little louder now.

"Who will, Olivia? People in general?" He asked, knowing that wasn't what she meant. "Who did you mean? Who do you not want to know? Who do you think will judge you?" She said nothing. He thought he would push again.

"Your partner has pretty strong feelings about the sanctity of life.

That's well known to everyone." He waited to see if she would take the bait. She didn't. "Is he the one you think will judge you?"

"You can't possibly understand." She replied. He nodded. "You're right," he replied. "I have no idea how horrible this might be for you, but Elliot is your partner, and your friend. He will stand by you, don't judge him as you think he is judging you."

Suddenly he had a thought. He didn't think it was so, but he had to ask. "Olivia, who was the father?"

She took a deep breath before she answered. "This guy I had been dating.

It wasn't serious and I probably shouldn't have slept with him in the first place. It was just the one time, right before I left for Oregon."

Suddenly she looked up. "You thought I slept with Elliot!" She said accusingly.

"I didn't think so, but I wanted to make sure." the doctor replied. "It would mean something very different if he was the father and you didn't want him to know. You need to understand that this truly is not your fault; it was a tragic accident. Losing this pregnancy and losing your friend are two horrible things that happened, but you couldn't have stopped it, no matter who you were. It's hard to accept that we are human sometimes, just like everyone else. You are not infallible just because you are a cop. Do you believe me?"

She looked at him. "Yes" she said simply. "Or at least I will someday."

She stood and grabbed her coat and scarf. He stood with her, he was proud of her, she was strong and she showed it, knowing that healing didn't happen automatically, but was a process, one that she was working her way through.

"Liv, take the weekend, see your friends, learn to be back in the city.

Come see me again on Monday morning. Tenish?"

"Yeah, sure." she said as she shrugged on her coat. He could still see the lingering sadness in her face, but she no longer had the shell shocked look he had seen the past two days. She gave him a little smile. "Thanks,

George."

"Anytime, Olivia."

He watched her walk down the hall, a slightly staggering gait still. She was tough, she'd be okay.

She took a deep breath as she exited the building. The cold air felt good, making the inside of the building seem stuffy in her memory. Wrapping her scarf a little closer, she started walking uptown. The busy streets and anonymous feel were part of why she loved the city, and the distraction was welcome as she decided to forego the taxi and walk home. It was dark long before she reached her block, almost 90 minutes later. She was tired, but in a good way, not the exhausted way she had been for the past month. As she exited the elevator to her 4th floor apartment, she noticed a tall, thin man with dark hair and a trench coat standing at her door, a giant duffle bag on either side of him. "Porter!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"I came to deliver your things." He said with a shrug as he stepped aside, letting her get to the door to unlock it. It swung open and she stepped over the duffle and into the apartment, calling over her shoulder "Well, come in. You know, if you had reactivated my phone like you said you would you could have called and found out I wasn't home. My home phone is set up to a message and only makes outgoing calls."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. It's been submitted, I don't know why it's taking so long."

"You know, I was much happier when my opinion of the Feds was just that they were a pain in my ass, not totally incompetent assholes."

"Olivia." he started to say something and then stopped as she spun around.

"Don't tell me not to be angry. I deserve to be angry." She dared him to object. He didn't.

"I know." He said. He looked at the giant bags he still held in each hand. "Where do you want...?"

"Just set them down. I'll just unpack them from here." He unceremoniously dropped the bags and rubbed his hands together to take the sting out. She smirked at him.

She walked over the first bag, it was big enough to hold a body and looked stuffed. Who knows what they had grabbed from that trailer. Most of that stuff she picked up at a thrift store in Portland and she had no desire to keep it. She unzipped the first bag and let out a soft gasp as she saw what was inside. A blue, purple and yellow quilt sat on the top. It was old and worn, almost frayed in places. She stood still, looking at it for a moment before reaching down and pulling it out. She flashed back for a moment, seeing herself laying on her side in the trailer, Ginny pulling the quilt over her and patting her shoulder.

"This doesn't belong to me," she said finally.

"It was in your trailer, we just took what was there." the agent replied, curious at her reaction. He could not figure this woman out. The confident woman he knew when they had left for Oregon was gone, this woman was angry or withdrawn. He hoped the first woman would find her way back. He liked that woman.

"It belonged to Ginny Jenkins. Remember her?" She glared up at him, waiting to see his response.

"Ah... Dectivive Benson, The FBI is very sorry at the loss of life that occurred during the operation..."

She cut him off. "Oh, shove it. I don't need to hear your bullshit."

He looked at her, obviously fighting to control her emotions, but failing miserable. She had clearly cared for this person. He tried to picture her; an older lady with grey curly hair came to mind. He remembered thinking she seemed an odd bird to be mixed up with this group. "We couldn't find any next of kin for her. Keep it to remember her by." he said.

"She didn't have any." Olivia replied. She looked up at him as she stepped away from the duffel. "Did you know she had two sons? Well, three really.

Her middle son died of leukemia as a child. Her oldest son died in Afghanistan in 2003. Her youngest son was killed on 9-11. He was FBI. Did you know that?" Dean Porter had a look of surprise on his face. "Didn't know that, huh?

Way to know your suspects. Her boys... they had a different name then her, not sure what it was. After her last son died, she left Washington and wandered around the county, I never got the details about how she ended up with the EFA." She looked at Dean, he noticed the fire in her eye was back and despite the unfortunate turn this conversation was taking, was relieved to see it. "She gave everything she had to this county, and her country took everything from her." She looked up at his and stared him down. "She wasn't a criminal. You do right by her, since I can't" she ordered. Dean nodded silently and walked towards the door.

"Again, Olivia. I really am sorry about her."

"Just go Dean, I'm done." she said. He nodded again and closed the door behind him.

Olivia picked up the quilt and wrapped it partially around her as she dug through the contents of her bag. A few personal items, but mostly stuff she didn't want or need. She'd donate the rest to a shelter. She sat on the couch, lost in her thoughts when a knock on the door shook her from her trance.

Groaning as she forced her tired body up from the couch, she left the quilt there and walked to the door, hollering as she walked, "If you'd reactivated my cell phone like you'd promised you wouldn't have to keep walking up three flights of stairs."

She flung open the door, expecting to see Dean Porter again. She was surprised when she saw the stockier form of her partner instead. Her eyebrows shot up into her forehead. "Elliot!" she said, stunned. She didn't move from her spot in front of the door and neither did he.


	4. Chapter 4

_Groaning as she forced her tired body up from the couch, she left the quilt _

_there and walked to the door, hollering as she walked "If you'd reactivated _

_my cell phone like you'd promised you wouldn't have to keep walking up _

_three flights of stairs." She flung open the door, expecting to see Dean _

_Porter again. She was surprised when she saw the stockier form of her _

_partner instead. Her eyebrows shot up into her forehead. "Elliot!" she _

_said, stunned. She didn't move from her spot in front of the door and _

_neither did he._

Chapter 4

"So it's true." He said quietly. "You're back... When?"

"Um, just yesterday morning." she said hesitantly. This was NOT how she needed this reunion to go. She needed more time to think about what she was going to say, and how she was going to say it.

"And you couldn't have taken 2 minutes in those two days to tell me you were okay?" His tone was harsh, angry even. He'd meant only to convey his concern, that he'd been worried about her, thoughts running wild about all the things that could have happened to her while he wasn't able to have her back. He knew he sounded like a jerk, he didn't mean to, but he'd let his worries get away from him once too many times.

She shrunk back from him. She wasn't afraid of him, but she was afraid of a confrontation, was afraid she would break. "I was going to but..."

"But what Olivia? You couldn't bring yourself to let us stop worrying about you? Couldn't tell us where you've been and what you've been doing? What the hell happened to you? Are you going to tell me now?"

"No."

She was a little surprised at the conviction in her voice, conviction she certainly didn't feel.

"Not now, not all of it. I can't."

He heard just a hint of defeat in her voice. They were still standing in the doorway. He looked at her, she could sense his gaze changing and his body posture change towards her as the anger left him. They still knew each other well; 7 weeks couldn't change that. In that splint second she could feel his eyes scan her. Her head. She swore internally, glancing back for her hat, wishing it wasn't too late to hide that bruise.

Elliot looked at his partner. He'd heard the description Beck had given of her: Skinny, roughed up, too skinny. He agreed, she looked like she needed a few good meals, and some sleep. He noticed the bruise trailing out of her hair. She shrugged involuntarily and he knew she was trying to hide it from him.

"Olivia, ARE you okay?" He grabbed her with both hands on her shoulders and patted down her arms, as if he was trying to reassure himself that she wasn't broken. She flinched slightly at his touch. They didn't touch. Unless they were playing a role, they didn't touch. "What happened?"

She shrugged him off and turned around, walking back inside, a silent invitation for him to follow. She turned briefly and said "Elliot, I swear to god, don't push me on this. If you do, I will break and that CANNOT happen now." He held his hands up in a signal of surrender, understanding that whatever it was it she wasn't ready to share it yet. She turned again and grabbed a takeout menu. "I'm ordering Chinese, you want?"

"Yeah, sure." he followed her into the apartment and grabbed a seat in one of the bar chairs facing the galley kitchen. She grabbed her phone and tried to dial, swearing under her breath when it didn't work. She grabbed her landline phone and dialed the number. She ordered what Elliot thought was a ridiculous amount of food.

As she set down the receiver she said "Fifteen minutes. God, I missed New York."

"Oregon not treating you as nicely as they promised?" Elliot changed the tone, trying to take the edge out of the room.

She took the bait, herself glad to get back on safer footing. "You have no idea," she said, leaving a lot unsaid. Changing the subject back to safe ground. "I haven't had real Chinese in almost two months. I'm been craving some Kung Pao for weeks now."

She settled herself onto the sofa, still fingering the takeout menu. "So how's work? How're Kathy and the kids?" She didn't want to just sit in silence, it would make the elephant in the room even bigger.

He took the bait as well and proceeded to tell her of his kids' latest antics, the trouble he had with any of the boys Kathleen liked, trying to get Lizzie to do anything besides play soccer. She smiled; she always enjoyed hearing about this part of his life. He told her work was basically the same; that everyone there had missed her, was worried about her. She noticed he didn't mention the blond detective at all. She wondered what that was about. The knock on the door interrupted them. She jumped up to get the food on reflex, the groaned as her head spun. Elliot was next to her in a heartbeat. She waved him off, "I'm fine, El, just happens sometimes, it's getting better. " She explained sheepishly. He followed her into the hallway and then back into the living room with the food and took a spot next to her on the couch as they dug into the food.

"Olivia, there is enough food here for half of Manhattan," he joked as he opened each of the containers.

"Hey Stabler, I haven't had a good meal in ages and I have a few extra calories to spare." He didn't say anything is response, but did notice that that was the first comment she had made about her physical appearance or what had gone on in Oregon.

"Hey, Liv, these are all vegetables," he said, gesturing to the open boxes.

"So I like vegetables now. So what?" she grinned at him. "There's a kung pao chicken and a beef with broccoli and a chow mein around here somewhere." She said as she grabbed the tofu with black bean sauce. "Here" she gestured towards him, "try this."

He looked at her skeptically, "What is it?"

"Tofu" she replied.

"TOFU!" he exclaimed. "Who are you and what have you done with my partner?"

She grinned, "Expand your horizons, Elliot. It's good." He tentatively took a piece from the box in her hand. He chewed thoughtfully. "Okay, so it's not horrendous but I think I will stick with my beef and broccoli. Normal, non-hippie food."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. She stared at the almost empty box of tofu, she never thought she'd eat that stuff on purpose, but found that she actually like it after a while. "We ate a lot of tofu in Oregon." she said quietly. Her partner looked up at her but didn't say anything more, waiting for her to go on. "The rest of the group claimed they liked it and after a while that was all we had."

"All you had?" he questioned.

"It's a long story, Elliot. Let's just say there wasn't a lot of food a lot of the time. I thought maybe that I would never eat tofu again, but I think it grew on me. Working with the feds definitely didn't. I'm glad to be back."

"I'm glad you're back too," her partner replied. "I understand if you don't want to tell me everything that happened, but I think you need to." She looked at him and shook her head. No matter what Huang said, she still didn't want him knowing the details. She knew the look she would get, one of pity and then one that said 'I can't trust you anymore.'

"No, Elliot. I don't. I'm fine," she replied insistently.

"What happened to your head?" he asked.

"I had a run in with the local police," she said, half joking. "I was one of the lucky ones." she said with a sardonic grin.

"Oh yeah," he said, ribbing back. "Do I want to know what the other guy looked like? I've seen your right hook." Her thoughts flashed immediately to Ginny, before her brain processed that he'd meant the cop that hit her with his club. "Not really," she replied in a falsely even tone. He'd caught that change in her look, almost to one of panic, before her eyes and facial features closed down again.

"Olivia." he said quietly.

His partner looked down, he appreciated again how much weight she'd lost, the fading bruise on her head, and with her short sleeves, the bruising and abrasions on her arm. "I got hit in the raid, El. The FBI had the local police working with them and those guys were young, ignorant and pissed off at us for being a pain in their ass. They got a little over aggressive. It's just a concussion, staples will come out Monday, dizziness and nausea are better every day."

He eyed her suspiciously, eyes squinting. "What else?" he asked.

"Elliot, I'm pretty talked out...They...They're making me see a guy." she said quietly. She was on shifting ground here, she still didn't want Elliot to know what had happened, but it was vital to her that he felt she was strong enough. If he thought she needed to talk to someone though, she would let him know she was talking to someone.

His eyebrows went up. "Okay." he said.

"Look, it's getting late. You should get home. I'll stop by the station next week sometime, see if Cragen was able to get me back in."

Elliot stood, taking the hint that she probably wanted to be by herself, 'hopefully to sleep,' he thought. "Wait, 'able to get you back in'? You're not coming right back?"

"I left in a hurry Elliot, there were open cases all over, Cragen had to get someone to take over. Now my spot is taken and they need to find me a new one. He was trying..." He cut her off.

"Beck's not staying, she was only ever temporary." He was irritated, he didn't mind Beck, but she wasn't his partner, never would be and he didn't want Olivia leaving because she was in the way.

"Cragen's working on it." she said again, walking him towards he doorway.

"Thanks for stopping by. Tell the guys I say hello and I'll stop by next week."

"Liv," he said. "Glad you're back." And he turned to walk down the hallway.

She closed the door and turned into her apartment. Gathering the leftover Chinese food and placing it in the fridge, she tossed the empties and headed to bed.

The next day Olivia decided she was going to take George's advice. She dressed warmly and set out to appreciate her home city. Making her way downtown, she found herself outside a familiar building right around lunchtime. On the spur of the moment she headed upstairs.

Walking into the familiar District Attorney's office, she headed towards Casey Novak's office. She hoped she wasn't in court on a Friday afternoon. Approaching the office she saw a tall man with dark brown hair in a trench coat lazily leaned up against the opposite wall. The door was closed and as she got closer she heard angry voices from inside. Not wanted to knock, she slowed her pace and glanced around.

The man spoke with a hint of joking in his voice as he saw her slow down and stop as she eyed the door. "You don't want to go in there. She's getting chewed out by her boss." He gestured with his coffee to the closed door of Casey's office.

"Ooooh," Olivia cringed, taking a second glance at the guy. She liked the sound of his voice, almost southern but still New York confident. "Branch or Donnelly?" she asked. She wondered who this guy was and if he wasn't a coworker, what he knew about the office politics.

"Donnelly," he replied.

"Ah," she cringed again. "Too bad."

"Why?" he asked, "Donnelly is worse than Branch?"

"Branch sounds a lot worse, but Donnelly's bite is usually a lot more vicious," she said with a smile. She glanced at the paper he had tucked under his arm. Recognizing the paper, she commented, "That rag will rot your brain, I'd be careful." she said, referring to the daily paper that was half news and half tabloid.

He looked down and smiled. "Hey, you know what they say: Everyone reads the Times but real New Yorkers read the Post. Besides, maybe I just like the puzzles." He tapped the wall with the folded paper.

"Uh huh, sure. Think they'll be long?" she asked.

"They've been going at it for at least" he looked at his watch "9 minutes now. Can't be much longer." As if on cue, the office door opened and Donnelly strode out. She nodded briefly at the man and then looked at Olivia. "Detective." she said with a nod, never breaking stride. They both turned toward the now open office door, Casey was nowhere to be seen.

"Go ahead." the man said, "I'm not here for pressing business," gesturing for Olivia to go in first.

She stuck her head in the door "Casey?" she called. Casey stood at her desk, straightening files like she was taking their existence personally.

"Olivia!" she exclaimed with a smile. "You're back! How are you?"

"Getting used to New York again. I was going to grab a sandwich, need some lunch?" she offered.

"Yes! I could use a break after that scene." the redhead replied. "Give me 5-10 minutes to wrap some things up."

"Sure," Olivia replied. "I'll meet you downstairs?"

"Great." Casey replied as she increased the pace of her paper shuffling.

Olivia left the office and nodded with a smile to the brown haired man. "She's all yours." and she headed back downstairs, trying to decide which local lunch option she liked the best.

Back in the ADA's office, Casey jotted down some quick reminder lists and stacked her files in organized groups as she heard another knock on her door. Looking up she recognized the face. "Shawn. What do I owe this pleasure?" she said in mock annoyance. She'd known him for a long time and appreciated that he stopped in to say hi now and then, even if it usually meant she ended up with something else on her plate, remember the time he'd convinced her to join the office's softball team.

"Just killing some time, your federal tax dollars at work," he said nonchalantly as he made himself comfortable on her sofa. "Court recess until 1:30pm, so here I am."

"Don't you have your own office?" she asked.

"Yes, but it doesn't have a sofa, or someone to chat with to pass the time. I'm bored of the internet."

"Well, you missed your chance for lunch, I have a prior engagement now."

"Too bad." he replied. "Hey Case, I need a favor." He looked up at her with a grin, his eyebrows raised and nodding at her with encouragement.

Slightly distracted by the piles on her desk, "Sure, what do you need?" she replied almost automatically.

"Give me your friend's number."

"What?" she looked up, confused. "What number? What friend?"

"Your friend, the brunette that just left your office. Give me her phone number. I liked her." he repeated, looking at her with puppy dog eyes.

"Don't give me that look, Shawn, it doesn't work on girls you've previously hit with spit balls. And I can't give you Olivia's phone number, she'd kill me."

"So her name is Olivia? Okay, why would she get mad? I'm a nice guy, I come with good recommendations."

"Oh, you do?" she asked.

"Sure I do. You can recommend me wholeheartedly, right?"

"I dunno, Shawn, she wouldn't like it."

"Come on, Case. What's wrong? Is she a bad egg?"

"No! Nothing like that. She's just not the type to go out with strangers. Plus, I can't just give away her number. She's a cop, she carries a gun and knows how to use it." Casey said with a grin, knowing that she was going to lose this battle.

"Ah, but I'm not a stranger. I just met her and you've known me for years. Come on, just ask her..."

"Alright, I'll ask her, but there is no way she is going to agree."

"Come on, Counselor. You're the lawyer, you'll figure out how to convince her."

"I'm going to lunch, Shawn, go do something productive on my tax dollars," she said as she turned to slide by him out the doorframe, leaving him to watch her leave. He smiled to himself and went back into her office, making himself at home on her couch.

Outside, Olivia smiled as she saw her friend jogging down the steps of the old stone building. They headed toward a favorite deli where they could grab a sandwich and hopefully a table in the back. They quickly fell into old ways, if Casey noticed the bruise on her head, partially hidden by the knit hat, or the weight loss, she kindly didn't bring it up, waiting for Olivia to. Olivia gave her the abbreviated version of the events that she had given Cragen a few days earlier. It was close enough to the truth and didn't bring up any of the sensitive issues. It was easier to tell each time, Olivia thought.

Halfway through their meal, Casey took advantage of the natural pause in conversation. "Um, Olivia? I might have done something you won't like." She had decided on a strategy for this.

"What Casey?" the detective replied.

"I might have given your phone number to a guy." Casey looked at her friend, apology written on her face.

"What? When? What GUY, Casey?" Olivia replied. Where the hell had that come from, she thought.

"The guy that was outside my office earlier, he asked for your number, said he wanted to talk with you more. I think he's smitten." She went on when Olivia didn't say anything back. "I was flustered from getting my ass chewed out by my boss and I gave it to him without totally thinking it through. He's an old friend of mine. I'm sorry." She said, hoping that the detective wouldn't see through the farce. Technically he was an old friend of hers, he'd practically grown up at her house, palling around with her older brothers and tormenting her along with them as older brothers do. She'd been pleasantly surprised when she'd run into him at work when she working Federal cases in Washington in her first job out of law school.

"Ugh. Don't worry, Casey, I'll let him down gently." She figured it was just one more thing. Too bad her phone was working again as of this morning, if it had stayed disconnected it would have solved the whole problem.

"Sorry," she repeated. "Or…" she paused for a few seconds. "You could just take his call, see what he has to say. He's a nice guy, one of the good ones. I used to work with him, my first job out of law school."

"Casey…I dunno."

"Come on, Liv. You said it yourself just a few minutes ago, you're back in New York, almost like starting with a clean slate…."

The brunette looked across the table here, thinking she'd just been played but not sure how or why. "Allright, I'll take his call and will play nice, but I'm not making any promises."

Casey lifted her hands palms facing her friend. "That's all I ask. So," she said, changing the subject, "when do you go back to work?"

A brief 30 minute lunch later, Casey walked back into her office and jumped and let out a little shriek when she noticed movement on her couch.

"Shawn, what are you still doing here?" she asked, clearly irritated. "I have work to do. I thought I told you to get out."

"You did," he replied, clearly non-pulsed by her obvious irritation. "But I figured you weren't a two-martini lunch kind of girl and you'd be back soon." He looked at her expectantly. "So?"

She grabbed a sticky note from her desk and jotted down a number. "Here," she said as she passed him the paper. "Don't screw it up."

He took the paper from her. "Ah, Casey Novak, JD extraordinaire. I knew you'd come through. How did you get her to agree?"

"I asked forgiveness, not permission. Now go!"

"What do you mean forgiveness?" he looked up at her confused.

"You're so daft! I told her I'd already given it to you in a fit of madness and she agreed to take pity on you and not hang up the minute you called, so don't mess this up."

"Awesome. You're the best, Case." He punched her on the shoulder as we went to leave the room. "Ow!" she squawked, rubbing her arm.

"Any words of advice?" he turned at the doorway, his face suddenly serious. "She seems like she knows what she wants. Recommendations to get on her good side?"

She looked up at him. She considered what to tell him, wanting good things for both her friends. "She's gun shy. Go slow. And she is going to push you away the minute you try to get close. If you mean it, don't let her. And if you don't mean it, don't go there." She paused. "And Shawn, don't mess this up. I know your mother, I'll tattle if I have to," she threatened.

"Understood, Counselor." He left her office with his usual spring in his step, leaving her to her files. She shook her head in exasperation and got back to work.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Olivia spent the rest of the day wandering the city again, reveling in the anonymity and the excesses of consumption the city offered, still seeming like a rare treat after rural Oregon.

Saturday morning Olivia went for a slow jog in the park. It was rough going, she was still easily fatigued and out of breath with not much exertion, but it was time to start getting back to it. Returned to her apartment, she took a quick shower and was sorting the things from Oregon into piles to keep, trash or donate, the old quilt still wrapped around her. Around noon her stomach started to rumble. With no good options in her apartment, she put off making a decision about eating until her current duffel bag was empty. Moving on autopilot, her cell phone buzzing against the coffee table pulled her out of the trance. Figuring it was someone from work, or the Feds, she answered "Benson" without stopping her sorting. Her head came up quickly as she head the voice on the other line.

"Uh, hi. Olivia? This is Shawn, a friend of Casey's. We met briefly at her office yesterday." He paused, waiting for a response.

'Shit' she thought, she had forgotten and didn't have a quick response ready. 'How was she going to shut this down without offending Casey?'

"Oh, hi, yeah, I remember." She kept it simple.

"Hey, so here I am on a Saturday afternoon really craving a sandwich. I enjoyed talking with you yesterday, so I wanted to know if you would like to have a sandwich also. We could meet and talk more about how you hate The Post. Are you hungry?"

She was momentarily confused. 'A sandwich? He wanted a sandwich?"

"Um, right now?" she asked, flustered. "Okay." She found herself agreeing because she didn't know what else to say. Also, she was hungry.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"What?" she replied, getting a little huffy.

"No, sorry" he jumped back in, "I mean, where in the city, uptown, downtown, Westside?"

"Midtown, Westside" she replied, still not sure what she was going to do about this.

"Perfect, I'm Upper West Side. Can you meet me at 55th and 9th? Northwest corner? 15 minutes?"

"Uh, okay." She wasn't usually this stupefied. He caught her off guard. She sounded like an idiot.

"Great! See you then." She heard the click of the phone as he hung up. 'What just happened?' she shook her head, she must've hit her head harder than she thought. Now she was stuck. She was going to kill Casey. She headed into the bathroom to make sure she looked decent, grabbed a little lipstick because she was a little vain after all. She grabbed her winter things, her bag and headed out the door. 'At least I'll get some lunch.'

She arrived about 20 minutes later. She noticed him right away, no trench coat and suit on a Saturday, he was wearing jeans and had on a wool winter coat and scarf. He perked up when he saw her approaching.

"Olivia! Hey, glad you could meet me. So there's this sandwich place around the corner that makes a grilled cheese to die for. Let's go." He waited for her to match his stride. "How are you?"

They made small talk as the walked halfway up the block to a small bakery that was in the basement floor of a building, mostly hidden if you weren't looking for it. She was so confused. This was the weirdest date, if you could call it that, that she had ever been on.

They talked about the post, the news, small talk, not very personal as they stood at the street side window ledge, eating their sandwiches in the cramped shop. Finally she asked, over the grilled cheese sandwich, which she had to admit was fantastic, what he did for a living.

"Casey said she met you at her first job? Are you a lawyer also?" she asked.

He smiled inside. He'd gotten her to bite and ask the first personal question, letting her lead. "She said that? I did work with her on her first job, but I met her years before that. I was friends with one of her brothers growing up, I spent a lot of time at the Novak house. There were so many boys there no one noticed an extra one now and then. I did work with her during her first job though, she worked federal cases in Washington when I was there."

"So, what do you do then?" she asked, a little surprised that Casey had left out that detail.

"I work for the FBI, case agent." He replied, watching her face for reaction. He knew she was a cop, which meant she was probably okay with the risk of the job, but didn't know her opinion of the Feds, who he knew frequently rubbed the city cops the wrong way.

"You're an FBI agent?" she asked, more than a little shocked. "So you worked with Casey when…?"

"When she was a Federal Prosecutor and I was a green, very green rookie."

He noticed the almost green look on her face, the blood had rushed out so fast he was surprised she was still standing. "So I take it you have an opinion on the Feds?"

"Ah," she said, gathering her wits quickly. "Let's just say the Feds and I are not on great terms right now. No, wait, let's say that the Feds are not on my good side right now."

"What happened, Officer? Feds get into one of your cases?" he tried to joke through the awkwardness. It didn't work.

"Something like that," she said. "And it's Detective." She had a colder, harder look in her eyes than had been there before. And something else, he noticed, sadness, maybe hurt? Something else. He filed that information away for a later date.

"You want to tell me about it?" It was the first personal questions he had asked.

"No." She finished the last bite of her sandwich and silently swore at Casey a second time. 'A bloody FBI agent! What was she thinking?'

"Suit yourself." He shrugged, remembering Casey's advice in her office.

Changing his tone, he turned towards her. "You know what I could go for right now? A coffee. A big fat latte. Interested?"

A little taken aback at the change in topic and relieved about it, "Um, I dunno, I need to…"

He cut her off, "Come on, what's more indulgent than a Saturday afternoon coffee, fresh beans, sweat foam, time to actually enjoy it? Come on, let's go." He jumped up and grabbed their sandwich wrappers, tossing them in the trash can as he held the door open for her. Not seeing much of an option and not finding another good excuse, she acquiesced.

They picked up coffees at a local independent coffee shop, one that was only a few blocks from the precinct but that she had never been to. Cops were creatures of habit.

He walked with what appeared to be aimless direction, at the same time keeping them headed towards the park. They walked the paths, enjoying their coffee and learning the senseless details that you learn about someone when you first meet them. About 60 minutes later, she found herself back on the streets of midtown, back near the sandwich shop, a few blocks from her apartment. He had been right. The coffee was wonderfully indulgent and the walk was just what she needed after the lunch. She wondered how he had managed to keep her thoughts occupied for two hours without her noticing.

"Well, DETECTIVE, I've got to go, there is an old movie on cable that is calling my name. I don't get that many weekends off and I plan on enjoying being lazy. Thank you for sharing a sandwich with me. I had a good time." He strolled to a stop at the corner of 54th at 9th.

"I did too." Olivia found herself saying, before she'd had a chance to think it out. 'What was she doing? Flirting with Casey's FBI buddy?'

"I'd like to take you out for a real dinner sometime. Okay if I give you a call?" He looked at her expectantly. His light brown eyes trained on her, he looked down at her, but not by much. She was tall enough for his lanky 6' frame.

"Sure," Olivia heard herself say. "If your next choice of restaurant is as good as that grilled cheese sandwich…" Inwardly she shook her head, she must've left her marbles in Oregon.

"Awesome. Talk to you later!" and just like that he had turned and was walking the other direction, back uptown. No attempt to hug, certainly no kiss, no touching. He seemed interested in her, but she was totally flummoxed.

'I've been out of the game for too long.' She thought, as she turned downtown the few blocks towards her apartment.

The next few days moved by quickly. She got her apartment in order, got rid of the stuff she didn't want, and followed up on what she could find about the people she'd left in Oregon. Information on the leaders of the group was scant, she'd have to get that from Porter or Bradford. She was able to find an obituary for Ginny, brief though it was, just a few lines, and that Red and T-bone had been released without charge.

She had another meeting with George Huang on Monday morning, as scheduled. They'd gone through the same ritual with the tea. He'd gotten her to talk a little more about the guilt she felt, as well as her fears about not being able to do her job or the perceptions that OTHERS would think she couldn't do her job. By the end of the 90 minutes, she was exhausted and George could tell.

"Olivia, I'm going to send a report to headquarters clearing you. I'm still here to talk whenever you need it, and think maybe we should set up some times, but you've done everything you need to as far as I'm concerned from a work perspective."

"Great. Thanks, Doc. I'm sure Cragen will be glad to hear that." He gave her a card with his home and cell phones on it. "Call if you need anything, got it?"

"Thanks, yeah, I understand. I still have to get medically cleared by the NYPD." She tapped the staples still in her head. "I probably won't go back until next week."

He nodded at her. "I'll see you next week then."

She turned as she opened the door. "Again, George, thank you so much. I…I found what I had lost there. I owe you that."

"No you don't. You didn't lose it, it was just buried inside for a while. I'm glad to help."

She nodded and closed the door behind her.

Making her way to 1PP for her medical clearance, she lightly touched the staples. The bruise was almost gone, she'd be glad to have the staples gone as well. Signing in, she was directed to get some blood drawn, then she waited for the doctor. This was always so tedious. She'd been through the process before, a couple of times she's been injured on the job. Sitting without anything to occupy her mind gave her time to reflect and her memories took her, unwillinging, back to Ginny and Oregon.

"Detective Benson?" she heard her name called and jumped, feeling her heart jump into her throat. She followed the young nurse's assistant toward the back rooms. She was escorted into one of the doctor's offices, she was somewhat relieved to see Dr. Masselin, whom she had met once before.

After a few cursory questions and the basics of a physical exam, Dr. Masselin took off her glasses and leaned back in her chair, smoothing down her graying brown hair. She looked at Olivia, stood, and pushed her hair aside, investigating the staples. "We should take those out today, I think. How many days has it been?"

"Uh, 7, 8?" she offered.

"Yep, it's time." It took only a matter of seconds to remove the staples. The doctor sat down after she was done and looked at Olivia. "So, the report I have says 'blunt head trauma, concussion, and anemia. We'll get your blood results back in a few minutes so we can check if you're still anemic. You're feeling okay? Passing out, dizziness, fatigue?"

"Um, not really. I was dizzy for the first few days, but it's been fine lately." It was mostly true, things had been much better the past few days.

"It must have been quite a hit on the head to cause that much blood loss. Were there any other injuries?"

Olivia's thoughts immediately went to what Huang had told her about the medical record. 'Damn the NYPD to be competent only when it was inconvenient for her.'

"No, no other injuries."

Dr. Masselin didn't reply, waiting to see if the detective would offer any else. She was used to working with cops who didn't want to share, but knew they should.

"I….I had a miscarriage," she spit out. Dr. Masselin covered her shock well.

"Oh, well, that might explain that."

"I didn't know I was pregnant when I left, otherwise I wouldn't have gone, and when it happened, I couldn't get to the doctor, so it was several days. By the time I did, there wasn't much they said they could do, the bleeding had mostly finished." She explained in a rapid voice, head down. One more person who knew, she ticked off the people in her mind.

"But you did eventually see a doctor? And everything else was okay?"

Olivia nodded. "Do you have to put that in the chart."

"Well, a medical chart is a legal document, so I can't lie, but I can make it as inconsequential sounding as possible." She pulled up some forms on the computer. "Your blood work is adequate, not where it has been in the past, but not horribly low. I'm going to write a prescription for you for Iron and a Vitamin and I want to you to take them and come back Friday. If things look better, you'll be all clear. "

Olivia gave her a slight smile. "Whatever you can do, doc."

"Come back 4pm, Friday, we'll run a quick CBC. Anything comes up in the meantime, you call and say you want to talk to me. We'll keep this between as few people as possible, yes?"

The detective nodded. "Thanks." She said as she gathered her belongings and left the office.

Four days later she walked into the 1-6, feeling a million times better than the last time she'd been there. Her lab work had come back fine, she was in the clear and you couldn't see the bruise on her temple unless you knew what to look for. Taking the stairs this time, she strode onto the second floor and into the bullpen. She stood in the doorway and observed the scene, it felt good to be back; she was ready. She watched as Elliot rubbed his hands over his hair, avoiding finishing the paperwork and watched as Fin and Munch looked over a map. The blond detective was there, at her computer, reading something indiscernible. She didn't move for a second, just appreciating the tings she had missed the past two months. She hesitated just a little too long.

Munch looked up and noticed her figure leaning in the doorway. "Well, look what the cat dragged in! Finally come back to help us sort out this mess, Benson?" She smiled at him.

"A few more days, Munch. You'll have to be patient." She grinned at them as she walked into the room. The other detectives stood to greet her. She reveled in finally feeling like herself again. Until…

"So where you been, Liv?" Fin asked. "Is it true you were in Oregon?"

"Yeah, hippies and redwoods and everything. I'm practically part hippie myself by now." She joked, silently begging them to drop the topic. From the other side of the room, Elliot spoke up, knowing somehow how badly she wanted not to talk about that.

"Coming back when, Liv? Did they clear you?"

"Yeah, I'll be back on Monday. I'm going to take one last weekend while I can get it."

"A whole weekend off," Munch jumped in. "The federal gig must not be so bad afterall."

"Yeah, well…" the smile dropped off her face. "I'm going to talk to the Cap." And she turned and walked towards his office, entering after a quick knock.

Elliot looked at the other two men, who seemed slightly stunned at her cold shoulder. "Look, guys, just don't bring up Oregon for while, huh?"

Munch piped up. "Did she talk to you Elliot? Do you know what happened to her? She looks so skinny?"

"Nah, she didn't tell me anything, but she told me she was talking to someone. Just leave her for now, huh?" Elliot reiterated.

The older man shrugged, "Hey, man, she's your partner. As long as you got her…"

"Yeah," Elliot replied, "I got her."

Fifteen minutes later, the female detective left her boss' office.

She approached her colleagues as they were clearly wrapping things up. "Benson, Maloney's in 10 minutes. You in?" Fin asked.

"Sure, it's been a while, I need to get up to speed." She grinned at him, so relieved to be back in the game.

Settled in a booth, crammed with the 5 of them, plus a couple of chairs for Cragen and an empty one for Casey who was due any minute, Munch poured them all beers. They chatted amiably for a few minutes, when Olivia grabbed the empty pitcher and went to the bar to ask for a refill. Dani Beck took the chance to follow and slid out of her seat. She pulled up a seat at the bar and looked at the brunette.

Olivia looked over at her. "So, two months at sex crimes enough for you? Going back to Warrents?" she said kindly, but bluntly.

"Yeah, it's not for me. I…I can't handle it. I don't know how you do it." Olivia shrugged in response.

"Thanks for watching out for my partner while I was gone." Olivia looked over at her, wondering what the other woman was after.

Dani Beck gave a quick smile. "Of course. He's a good cop, a good man."

"I know." Olivia said. She looked down the bar, trying to catch the bartender's eye. She gave him a slight wave and gestured 'two' with her fingers. The bartender nodded and moved to fill two pitchers.

"He's been off, since you've been gone. So they tell me..." the blond said, still looking forward. "He was really worried, like truly worried, not just concerned like a partner for a co-worker."

"Yeah, well….We've been through a lot together." Olivia replied, not liking what she was insinuating. It was hard enough keeping track of which direction their relationship was going without other people butting in.

"Well, he's all yours now. Look out for him. That guy needs all the help he can get." She turned and walked towards the table, saying her goodbyes and walked out the door. Olivia grabbed the two pitchers and headed towards the table, silently glad that it was only the four of them. She grinned again as she saw Casey enter the bar. 'Finally,' she thought, 'Life was starting to feel right side up again.'


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Three weeks later, Olivia was back in the swing of things. It felt like she had never left. Except for occasional reminders of the things that happened in Oregon, which were feeling more and more distant, she had put most of what happened behind her. They had just wrapped up a big case and for once, she was getting out at a reasonable hour on a Friday night. She jogged up the stairs towards the locker room, stripped off her sweater and slipped on a stylish blazer over the camisole. She grabbed some lipstick from her bag and rubbed her hand through her hair. She glanced in the mirror. 'It would have to do." She thought, he should be grateful that she's making it almost on time. She jogged down the stairs, and around the corner, running into Fin as he headed back into the room.

"Hey, Liv, in a hurry huh? Don't you want to stay and run these photos with me?" He gestured to the box he was holding.

"Nope, I'm off. That job is all yours."

He looked at her and noted her lipstick, "Well at least one of us should have a good time tonight, huh? See ya Monday."

"Later, Fin." She hurried toward the elevator. She was grateful it was Fin and not either of the other detectives. He was far less likely to ask questions and much less likely to share what'd he seen with the others. Her relationship wasn't exactly a secret, but she didn't want to answer any more questions than necessary. She wasn't even sure if Casey knew they'd been seeing each other for the past few weeks. After that first sandwich date, they'd seen each other several times, for dinner, a show, a quick jog in the park before work. This guy made her feel comfortable, he talked a mean streak when she didn't want to and didn't push her to say or do anything that she didn't want to. She didn't know where it was going, but for now it was enjoyable and not additional stress on her, which is what she wanted right now.

"Hi." Olivia slid into the seat across from Shawn at the Italian Restaurant in the Village. He looked at his watch, "Only 20 minutes late. A new record." He grinned at her.

"Hey, we can't all have a cushy Federal job you know."

Later than night, they arrived at her apartment. The cabbie dropped them off at her apartment in midtown. Normally they shared a cab to her place and he continued on to the Upper West Side. Tonight though, he shoved a twenty at the cabbie and got out with her. He held the door open for her as she searched for her key fob to activate the secondary door to her building. She knew this was new ground and was okay with it. She turned away from the elevator towards the stairs as he let out a little groan. "Ah, stairs, really? You have a nice elevator right there." He let out as he followed her up the stairs. "Please tell me you don't live on the 6thfloor."

"Ah, come on, big time Fed like yourself can't handle a few stairs? You are destroying my opinion of the FBI."

"Ha." He snorted derisively, "I've heard what you think of the FBI, me failing to keep up with you on the stairs can't make it much worse than it already is."

She unlocked her apartment and turned at the door.

"So, gonna let me come in or what?" Shawn asked, his tall frame leaning against the doorway.

She turned towards him as the door swung open, suddenly unsure of her footing here. He moved inside her apartment, swinging her inside after her.

He held her waist. She didn't move. He bent his head towards her, as she flinched and pulled back. "Hey," he said, "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry." She looked down. "I'm just not sure…"

"Look, I understand if you are nervous, but it's just me, the guy who likes grilled cheese sandwiches. I like you and I would like to kiss you, if you don't mind." He held her shoulders.

"I don't mind." She said, looking him in the eye. Silently he thanked

Casey for her words of advice, for about the hundredth time. And he bent forward again.

Olivia stacked all her papers together, placed the papers on top of one of several piles of manila folders on her desk. "Done" she exclaimed. "I'm getting out of here before something else hits the fan. I'm in court tomorrow morning, I'll see you after." She set the files down, grabbed her coat and scarf and hurried toward the elevator. Fin watched her go, shrugged, and turned back towards his files. Elliot walked back into the room, noting his partner's absence, and the files on her desk.

"Olivia leave already?" he asked.

"Yeah." Fin replied. "Just ran out the door 5 minutes ago. Looked like she had plans."

"Plans? Olivia?" he shrugged as he looked at her desk. "She left all her files, doesn't she have court in the morning?"

"She said so. Guess she'll have to come back to get the files. She kind of ran out of here in a hurry." Fin added.

"I'll drop them off at her place on my way out." Elliot said. "She won't want to come all the way uptown to pick them up and still make it down to court by 8am."

Fin shrugged, "Suit yourself, but she looked like she was going out, not home."

Elliot considered that for a minute and then settled down to finish his own paperwork. He was always surprised at the speed at which his partner could finish her own paperwork when she was properly motivated. 'Like by a date.' He thought. They'd been working well together since she gotten back from Oregon, but she still shied away from sharing personal details with him. It was almost as it she didn't want him to know what was going on. She didn't avoid the questions when he asked outright, but she certainly never offered any of her own accord.

About an hour later, Elliot was shrugging on his own coat and shutting down his computer. He grabbed the files off Olivia's desk and tucked them under his arm.

"Later guys." He called to Fin and Munch, who had the later shift, as he headed outside. They waved their silent acknowledgement.

Elliot pulled his car up to Olivia's building, parking in the loading zone knowing he would be just a quick minute. He parked and jumped out of the building, gesturing to the security guard to let him in. The guard recognized him and waved him up. Elliot hollered his thanks as he jogged up the stairs. He wanted to get home to his family before it was too late. He reached the 4th floor and knocked on her door. Not getting a response, he figured Fin had been right and he bent down to push the files under her door.

Suddenly the door opened. "Elliot?" Olivia exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" She sounded a little irritated. He stood up with the files in his hands. He noted her hair, she was wearing a low cut top, certainly not what she'd been wearing at work. And lipstick. His partner didn't wear lipstick.

"I, uh, I was going to drop off the files you needed for court tomorrow. You left them on your desk." He replied, trying to see around her what was going on in her apartment. He noticed the glass of red wine in her other hand, but couldn't see inside.

Seeing what he was up to, she took a step to the side to block his view. "Thank you, Elliot, I wasn't very happy about having to stop by to pick them up in the morning." She reached for the files but he pulled them back before she could reach them.

"Everything okay in there?" he asked innocently.

"Fine, Elliot. Goodbye now." She grabbed the files from his hand and placed them on the small table by the door.

"Hey, Olivia! Everything okay? We have like 5 minutes here…" A voice carried over from inside the apartment.

Elliot's eyebrows shot through the roof. He looked at his partner as she hollered back "Yeah, everything's fine."

"See you tomorrow, Elliot." She moved to close the door, but his foot was wedged between the doorframe and the door.

"Elliot." She repeated.

"What?" he replied, playing ignorant, peering over her shoulder into the apartment.

"Good bye, Elliot." He still didn't move his foot. Time to play dirty, she glanced over her shoulder, getting the distraction she needed and quickly kicked her partner in the shin with her foot. 'High heels were good for more than making your legs look good,' she thought.

"Hey! Ow!" Elliot hollered, jerking his leg up as Olivia slammed the door in his face.

"See you tomorrow." She said, as she latched the door. "Thanks for stopping by." She said, just as Shawn came around the corner, whipping a dish towel over his shoulder.

"Everything good, Liv?" he asked.

"Yep, it just my partner dropping off some files for tomorrow. He was a little too curious about what was going on in here. He's nosy." She grabbed his waist. "I didn't know you were so handy in the kitchen." She said.

"Ah, well wait until you taste my steaks. I can cook a mean steak. More wine, he offered?" She grinned at him.

At the 1-6 the next day, Fin arrived as Elliot was sitting down to his desk. "Hey, you reach Liv last night? Get her those files for court."

"Yeah, uh, dropped them off at her place. She was home." He offered.

"Yeah, hmm." Fin replied non-commitally.

"She had someone there with her, she was all dressed up, with lipstick!" Elliot told the other detective. "She wouldn't let me in or tell me who was there."

"Yeah? Well, I figured she had somewhere important to be."

"Why didn't she say anything to me?" Elliot asked. "She practically slammed the door in my face."

"What do you want, Stabler? Probably she didn't tell you because she was afraid you would try to crash her date and push your way into her apartment.

Can't say I blame her." He looked at the other detective and raised his eyebrows.

"I, uh, well…I was just dropping off the files."

"Uh huh." He replied, and he turned to his own work, picked up the phone to make some calls.

Elliot grabbed the file and started researching the case that had come in early this morning. They were still waiting on the M.E.s report, but he could at least familiarize himself with the details. His thoughts kept straying to Olivia and why she had been so secretive. Was Fin right? Did she really not want him to know because he was too protective? He rarely liked the guys she dated, but that was because they were usually all losers, definitely not good enough for her. Little did he know Olivia had already considered this, and knowing that Elliot didn't like anyone she dated, and knowing that once she knew he didn't like her boyfriends, she couldn't commit to them either, she had decided the best answer was to keep him out of the picture all together. Their partnership, friendship, whatever you called it, was so dysfunctional. She needed to keep that dysfunction from spilling over to the rest of her life.

Approximately 11:15am on a Wednesday morning, Elliot snapped his phone closed again, the number he was calling went unanswered again. He pulled up onto his partner's block and pulled into the empty loading zone in front of her building. He pulled out his phone again to call his boss, and then put it away as he saw his partner sprinting down the block towards him. He rolled down his window as she pulled up at her building, panting and glancing behind her.

A few seconds later, a man in running clothes sprinted after her, also panting. "Hot Damn, Olivia!" The man exclaimed, through winded breaths, "You make me feel like an old man."

Still a little breathless, with her hand hands on her knees, she looked up at him and grinned. She still hadn't noticed Elliot parked at the curb.

"I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who's ass you can kick in a footrace," he said from the car.

Her head jerked up, looking towards the car. "Elliot, what are you doing here? Ever heard of a phone? I'm not due in until 1."

He waved his phone at her. "I tried, 6 times. Check your messages." She dug her phone out of the pocket of her running fleece. "Damn," she exclaimed, noting the missed calls from her partner and 2 from the Captain.

"It was on silent. Sorry. What's up? We catch a case?"

"Yeah, Cap wanted me to get you on my way in." Elliot said.

"Okay" She ran her hand through her short hair. "I'll meet you at the precinct in 20 minutes."

"It's in Brooklyn, Cap wanted me to get you on the way downtown. I'll wait." He gestured toward her apartment.

"Allright, give me 15 minutes." She turned away from him towards her building. She approached the guy who had been trying to catch up to her. "I need a rain check on brunch." Shawn looked at her, cheeks flushed from their run. She looked gorgeous.

"No problem." He took a couple steps towards her, grabbed her by the chin and kissed her. Stunned, Olivia didn't push him away right away, her hands still at her sides. He broke away after a few seconds and said "Call ya later, Benson!" as he jogged down the block.

Still a little stunned, Benson turned towards her building, purposefully avoiding the eyes of her partner, who seemed more than a little stunned himself. She'll let him stew on that a little, she thought with a grin as she jogged up the stairs to her apartment.

True to her word, 15 minutes later she came jogging down the steps, short hair still damp from her shower and cheeks still flushed. She jumped in the passenger seat and buckled her belt as Elliot pulled away from the curb and turned the sedan downtown. "So, fill me in? What do we have?"

Elliot turned to look at her, eyebrows up. "Don't you want to fill me in first?" he said, trying to get her to spill the beans about what he had seen on the sidewalk.

"Nope, I don't. I want to hear about our case." She looked at him with a look that said she wasn't in the mood for his harassment.

"Tell me now, or tell me later, Benson" he deadpanned, "but sooner or later you'll spill the beans." And he proceeded to fill her in on the case they were investigating.

That evening back at the precinct, Elliot and Olivia sat filling out paperwork, desperately trying to finish at a reasonable hour. "So," Elliot spoke up after a quick glance to see who else was in earshot, "Wanna tell me who you were playing tonsil hockey with this morning?"

"Tonsil hockey, Elliot? What are you 12?" Olivia shot back.

"That's what Lizzie calls it. Tonsil hockey." He replied.

"Yeah, and Lizzie is what, 12?" She countered.

Munch had walked in and heard the last part of their conversation. "Tonsil hockey, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" he lifted an eyebrow at the younger detectives.

"That's what the kids were calling it 20 years ago." Casey told him. She had arrived in the middle of the banter, shortly after Munch. "Who's playing tonsil hockey?"

"Olivia." Elliot said bluntly. Casey and Munch's jaws dropped.

"Elliot!" she said, obviously pissed. "Was that necessary?"

"Hey, I wasn't the one who got caught making out on the sidewalk this morning." He shrugged and walked off, "Come on, we have an interview to complete." Casey turned and followed him, giving Olivia a pointed look as she went. Olivia made herself look busy at her desk, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. She hoped Munch would take the hint. Munch usually wasn't one for tact, but he tread softly around her since making a crack about her parentage when she'd been a rookie.

She finished off her paperwork in record time and looked over toward the interrogation rooms where Elliot was still meeting with a suspect, his lawyer and Casey. Feeling momentarily guilty for leaving her partner, she remembered him embarrassing her earlier and grabbed her things to leave. She was waiting for the elevator when Elliot came running up to her. "Leaving without saying goodbye?" he asked. She shot him a cold stare. "Come on, Liv, I was just giving you a hard time. You don't need to tell me if you don't want to." He grabbed her arm as she walked toward the opening elevator doors. "I'm just glad you found someone that makes you happy." He let go as she tried to shake him off her arm, but all the effort left her when she heard was he said. She looked at him and smiled softly and nodded. She didn't really want his pity, but she appreciated the sentiment.

"Next maybe just be happy for me in silence, huh?" she said, a hint, only a hint of joking in her voice.

"Yeah, sure." He thought maybe he could get her to open up to him, he didn't like this new, working only relationship. She was never cold, never rude, never did anything he could specifically complain about except that their old familiar friendship was gone. The strain they'd felt before she'd gone to Oregon was also gone, but whatever had replaced it was like warm milk-toast. No spark, no energy, no arguments or bickering. The connection that had made them so good in the past was lacking and he wanted it back. It appeared she didn't. She'd shut him down every time he'd tried to bring up the subject. She was a master in avoiding topics she didn't want to discuss and since she'd been back, that had included every thing even remotely personal. She'd never blatantly lie or refuse to answer, but she answered in such a way that didn't give away any information whatsoever. It was driving him nuts. He missed his friend.

Suddenly they heard Cragen's voice booming from down the hallway.

"Benson! Stabler! I need you in here!" The two detectives shared a knowing glance and turned back towards the bullpen.

They sat listening to the new case that had come in. It'd been shifted from another department, which was the hardest kind of case to pick up. They had to sort through the mess of files that had already been partially completed and try to make some sense of it. It was going to be a long night. Olivia looked at her watch. It was only 6:30. They had been so close to getting out at a reasonable time.

After approximately 3 hours of brainstorming and file searching, they had a briefing session. Plan in hand, they headed uptown to try and find the guy the suspected of three burglary and assaults that had occurred the past three nights. They didn't have enough on this guy to arrest him but they wanted to see if they could get some more information out of him. In the car on the West Side Highway, Elliot looked at his partner out the corner of his eye. "You have plans tonight?" he asked, trying to open things up.

"Nope, not now," she answered, not looking at him.

"Did you have plans?" he countered.

"Nothing concrete. I'll just have to reschedule my night of take out and old movies on TV." Vague answers, as always he thought chagrinned.

"You planning on doing those things alone?" he knew he was pushing her buttons, he was counting on it. He missed the sharp, biting comments he usually got from his partner. This nice Benson was not to his liking.

Olivia sat looking at her phone, pretending to be absorbed in checking something important. She knew what Elliot was trying to do, he'd been trying to get her to snap at him or yell at him or show some sort of emotion for a few weeks now. She wasn't going to break. She'd taken a step back from him since Oregon. She'd done a lot of soul searching by herself and with George Huang. She knew she was dependent on her partner for things that a partner shouldn't be. He filled a role for her of friend, colleague, family, and, she hated to admit it, fantastical romantic interest. Those weren't concrete feelings and it wasn't anything she would ever act on. That would just be weird and awkward. She could see now though that he subconsciously thought of him that way. She realized she couldn't keep that up. Something had to give, their partnership and their friendship had to change, the emotional rollercoaster that their relationship had her on was not sustainable. It'd come to a head a couple of times in the past and they had worked through it, but she hadn't. For her, he could not be that one person, could not be HER person. He already had a family, a wife, to be there for. He was her friend, yes, but he could never be more. Attempting to continue what they'd been doing for the past few years would destroy her, destroy him and destroy his family, so she was pulling away. She'd be lonely, but it was better than losing him all together.

"Pretty much," she answered. She didn't need to look at Elliot to know he was bristling with her answers. "Look, Elliot, I don't know what you want from me."

"I want to...I need to know...I just want to..." He was fumbling for his words. How did he say what he meant without sounding like a fool. "I want to know what's going on in your life and why all of a sudden you won't talk to me."

"Won't talk to you? We talk every day? What are we doing now? We talk." she huffed.

"That's not what I mean and you know it," he flung back at her. "I know something happened." he looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

She stiffened, but didn't look up. "What does that mean?" her voice was sharp. He was glad to hear it.

"In Oregon. I know something happened. Something changed. Ever since you came back..."

She interrupted him. "Elliot, I told you..."

"You told me nothing, Olivia. You've been shutting me out since you got back."

"It's how it has to be, El. I can't..I couldn't keep going on like that."

"Like what?" he replied.

She felt a sigh of relief escape her lips when she saw the building they were looking for. She didn't want this conversation to go on any longer.

"You can't be my everything, El, because I will never be yours. That's what it was coming to and I couldn't do it. I'm sorry, but this is how it has to be."

"What, this? Exchanging pleasantries over coffee, not knowing anything about you?"

She felt her heart squeezing in her chest. It hurt to admit it, but she had to give that up in order to survive. "Yes."

Exasperated, he slammed the car into park and turned to her, "Whatever they did to you in Oregon, whatever happened, I think you need to tell me."

"No, I don't, Elliot." She wasn't so much afraid of him finding out what happened, she'd gotten over that fear. She did know though, that having to tell him what happened, having him be the sympathetic friend, would just bring them closer and she wasn't able to expose her heart to that.

She swung open the door and slammed it shut, waiting for him to come around the car to go in together. He gave her a look as they approached the old brick building with the rusting fire escape scaling down the front of it. The look was a combination of 'we're not done with this' and concern.

They entered the building and walked the 5 floors to the suspect's apartment. They knocked and were surprised when their guy opened the door himself. He looked a little dodgy, nervous, sweaty. A few key questions from Elliot and he tried to dart back inside. Elliot was too quick for him and had him by the arm and then bear hugged him as he took a swing at the detective.

Standing slightly to the side, Olivia pulled out her handcuffs. "Bad move, my friend. Now we can arrest you for assaulting a police officer." He was still struggling as she read him his rights. He threw his weight back against Elliot, throwing the larger man off balance. He used the leverage from him to swing his leg up, connecting his foot with Olivia's jaw with a crack. Her head swung back and she fell toward the railing, hitting the side of her head on the ornate ironwork. Still scrambling, Elliot tackled the suspect and planted his knee firmly in his back. He grabbed his own cuffs and placed them quickly on the guy's ankles, attaching the extension to the wrist cuffs, effectively hogtying him. He left him rolling on the floor and jumped to his partner.

She was sitting against the railing, feeling her jaw and moving it back and forth. "You okay?" he asked, his heart in his throat. 'Way to go, Stabler,' he thought. Try to get her to open up to you and then let her get kicked in the face. No wonder she doesn't trust you anymore. His pulse was still pounding as he watched his partner.

Her forehead wrinkled as she moved her jaw around a little more as she felt the back of her head. She was a little tender; she pulled her hand back to look at her fingers. No blood. "Yeah, just got my bell rung."

"You sure?" he asked again, eyeing her. He didn't completely trust her to be truthful with him right now.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's get this animal back to the house." She stood a little slowly, her recent experience with a head injury had taught her that moving slowly prevents a lot of the side effects. If she could avoid those, she could avoid being forced to see a doctor.

The ride back to the station was quiet. Elliot was contemplating the things she had toldhim, Olivia was contemplating how Elliot was going to spin this in order to get her to spill the beans. Her head was starting to hurt. She told herself it was as much fatigue and hunger as it was from hitting her head. She sighed and Elliot looked over at her. He thought she might be the one playing it tough, but he could tell it wasn't easy on her.

He thought about what she had said earlier. 'You can't be my everything.' Was that what it was? She felt too dependent? What was so wrong with depending on each other? 'I will never be your everything.' What did she mean by that? He realized she didn't have a lot of people in her life. She had a few close friends, but no family. He was her family. Something clicked. She felt the scales were uneven. He had his wife, his children, his family, and her. She had him and only him. Something in Oregon had made her realize how precarious that was.

Smiling a little to himself, he was proud of himself for figuring things out, but at the same time, he had no idea what to do about it.

A few hours later, with a confession in hand, the suspect booked in for the night, Olivia sat staring at her paperwork, one hand unconsciously rubbing the back of her head where Elliot knew there was a big goose egg.

Cragen stepped out of his office, telling everyone to go one for the night. "Good work everyone. Be back in the morning, first thing. Nothing else here that can't wait until tomorrow." He pointedly looked at Olivia. She sighed and slapped the file closed. She grabbed her bag and coat and headed towards the elevator, texting a message as she jogged up the stairs. Elliot hurried to catch up with her, glancing at his watch. Just after 10pm.

"Hey, Liv!" he called. "Want a ride?"

"Sure, that'd be great."

The elevator ride and then the car ride were mostly silent. When the arrived at her building he pulled up into the loading zone and hopped out of the car. "Elliot, seriously, I can get myself upstairs."

"I know you can, just let me do this just the one time. Please." She looked at him, not quite figuring out what he was planning.

Upstairs outside her door, she put the key in the lock and swung the door open. She turned to face her partner, the face almost more familiar than her own. Before she could say anything, he spoke.

"Look, Liv, I think I know where you are coming from, but pushing people away because you get too close, too dependent, isn't going to solve anything."

She nodded at him. "Yeah, okay El, thanks. See you tomorrow." She moved to close the door and his hand caught it before it could close.

"Hey, you want to ordered some takeout? I'm pretty hungry," he offered.

She smiled at him. "Go home, Elliot. There's a woman and 5 kids in Queens that need to see your ugly mug far more than I do. Besides, Shawn is bringing over some burgers." She threw him a bone, almost to see what she would do with it.

His eyebrows sprung up almost to his hairline. "Shawn is it? Well at least I have a name now. I'm glad..." He left the rest unsaid. Glad she had someone, glad he was bringing dinner, glad she didn't have to be alone every night, glad that someone would be there so he didn't have to worry about her head injury all night long. "I'm glad." He repeated.

She smiled at him. "Good night, Elliot." And she closed the door.

As he turned and headed back downstairs, he passed a tall, lanky, shaggy haired man coming up the stairs with a bag of takeout in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other. Elliot recognized him as the man Olivia had beaten in the footrace on the street. The man nodded politely as the passed in the hallway. Elliot took the chance.

"Hey," he said quickly, sticking out his hand. "You must be Shawn." The man stopped short, surprised. "Elliot Stabler, Olivia's partner. I've heard a bit about you."

"Oh! Yeah, hey, how you doin?" He struggled to shift the beer under his arm so he could accept Elliot's offer of a handshake. "Good to meet you. I've heard about you too." There was a slightly awkward pause. "She mentioned there was some kind of scuffle tonight, she okay?" Shawn asked the shorter man.

"Yeah, she's okay. Says she just got her bell rung. No lasting effects. I am sure she will tell you all about it." Elliot replied.

"Yeah, right, she'd tell me it was just a scratch if she had a bullet hole in her side," Shawn snorted.

Elliot tried to hide a slight smile. He certainly didn't want to start off actually liking this guy, but he seemed to have a pretty good tackle on his partner.

"Look man," Elliot began, trying to keep it casual. "Liv seems pretty happy with you, but if you hurt her, even think of hurting her, I will find you. Understand?" He eyed Shawn to see what his reaction was.

"Yeah man, I understand. Likewise." He shot back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Elliot countered.

"Hey, I like Olivia. I like her a lot, but she's a tough cookie. I can't wait to get to know her better because I think she is worth it but she is a tough nut to crack. She's not going to let some bozo she's known for a few weeks break her heart. But you...You guys are partners, have been partners for a long time. You've had each other backs and been inside each other's heads for longer than most marriages. I know what that's like. I also know that when you get that close to someone it's a lot easier to hit them where it hurts. So, you know… Likewise." He looked Elliot directly in the eye.

Elliot looked back at him. This was not what he was expecting. Eyebrows raised, he stared at the lanky man in the hallway, scruffy beard, long sleeved tee shirt, still awkwardly holding the bag of food and the six back of beer. He looked like he was about to drop everything, uncoordinated, tipping over. The look in his eye was like steel though. His eyes focused on Elliot and didn't move, dispute the juggling going on beneath them.

"Understood," he replied and headed back down to the car.

Shawn watched him go for a minute and then shook his head, taking a few quick steps towards the door. He knocked awkwardly with the beer in his hand and smiled when she opened the door. She had a tired look in her eye, but she smiled back at him.

"My hero," she deadpanned, reaching to take the beer and burgers from him. They chatted amiably about their days while pulling out plates and divvying up the food. She gave him a brief version of what had happened at the old apartment building uptown. He frowned a little at what she told him, then reached over and turned her head, looking for the lump, then turned her head the other way to look at her jaw. She let him look for a minute, then pulled away. "I'm fine," she insisted.

"Yeah, I know. Maybe I just wanted to look," he replied. "I'm a hands on kind of guy, just wanted to see it for myself." She smiled at him as his hands moved from her face to around her waste, the burgers and beer temporarily forgotten.


	7. Chapter 7

_I know I'm probably mixing up seasons. I just like to use what I like to fit..._

A few weeks later...

They could hear the sirens from blocks away as they rushed to the scene. They'd gotten a call alerting them to a situation in a building in Washington Heights, the same building that housed the witnesses of an ongoing investigation, and the same building where Olivia Benson had been headed last any one had talked to her.

The call had come from one of the residents of the building, saying someone had told them to call 911 because there was a gas leak in the air. The person didn't know who it was, just that they'd been told to call 911 and get everyone out of the building. Benson was currently MIA, not answering her cell phone or her radio. It was unknown if she was still on the scene, or what exactly they would see when they got there. Cragen and Stabler shared a car over, with Munch and Fin following. They spread out when they got there, trying to ascertain what had happened and where their witnesses and missing detective were.

Elliot's heart was pounding. He'd had a bad feeling in his gut about this, something just hadn't seemed right. He hadn't wanted anyone going alone to interview the woman and her young son who were witnesses in this case. Unfortunately, he had no concrete reason to think that and his partner was one of the most stubborn women alive. He'd been unable to convince her, so she had set out along. Now look at what had happened. He was mentally beating himself up over it. It anything happened to her... He didn't even want to think about it. Their relationship was precarious enough, any complication tended to tip them into dysfunction, either anger, fear or codependency, with one or the other of them then shutting down and closing the other off. Olivia had been doing the closing off lately. Since she'd come back from Oregon they had been working well together, but she was hesitant to be totally honest with him. He knew something had happened to her there, but she was convinced she didn't want him to know. The woman had her secrets, that was for sure. He wasn't privy to most of her most private thoughts, but he knew more about her than probably anyone did. She had this new guy she was dating, but she hadn't told Elliot much about him either. Elliot didn't think he was so close and important to her that she'd spill her secrets to him, but until recently, he'd always thought that he'd been the person she could tell everything to. Whatever had happened in Oregon had changed that.

As they approached the building, the block was already cordoned off by yellow police tape. Several ambulances had responded, medics were swarming the scene along with NYPD uniforms and FDNY responders. They screeched to a stop, at an angle to the curb, and slammed the doors as they hurried to investigate. Elliot headed towards the uniforms organizing the evacuation and Cragen started checking each ambulance and medic team treating the victims.

The uniforms told Elliot what little they knew. They'd gotten a call about a building with a gas leak, or airborne toxin causing medical complaints of some unknown type. The first officers on the scene had seen people leaving the building, standing in the street. It took a while to find the victims that had been affected the most, as they were unable to evacuate themselves. The complaints ranged from minor headaches and blurry vision, to fatigue, excessive sleepiness, hot flashes and, the worst it seemed, had respiratory depression, some hallucination effect and extreme lethargy.

The victims on the 4th floor seemed to be the worst off, according to the officers. They included a woman, her young son, a couple and their two foster children and a plain clothes officer found in the hallway. They thought she was the one that alerted everyone to the problem. The couple from the 4th floor had said she was screaming to evacuate the building and smashed a window in the hallway to try and ventilate the place. It looked like she had dragged the boy and his mother to the hallway before collapsing. In the ventilated hallway, the air was fresher, which probably saved them from full respiratory arrest before they were evacuated by FDNY. The scary story these uniforms were telling him only increased his concern for his partner, who was still missing. He turned around in a panic, hoping to find Fin or Munch or Cragen, hoping they'd had better luck.

His panicked blue eyes scanned the scene, finally catching Cragen waving at him frantically from the side of one of the ambulances. He jogged over half afraid of what he would find.

"They have her inside," the older man said. "She's okay."

The reassurance took Elliots breath away, but he needed to see for himself. He looked around the open door and saw Olivia on the gurney with oxygen tubing over her face. Her eyes were closed and she looked pale, grey almost. He looked back to Cragen. "Okay?" he asked. "She doesn't look okay."

"The medics say it's some form of toxic gas, it appears to be acting like a combination of carbon monoxide and a hallucinogen." The male medic closest to them piped up. "It decreases the respiratory drive, basically making the victim forget they need to breathe, just like carbon monoxide. Most of the victims seem to be responding initially to oxygen, but since we don't know what this is, we don't know if the effect is reversible or not. Detective Benson's O2 level was dangerously low, 84% when we got to her. It's up to 92% now and she's a little more arousable now."

Elliot turned to his Captain as he started to climb in to the ambulance to check for himself. Cragen nodded in hand-off as he set out to assess the scene. "Elliot, she's pretty out of it. She was awake a minute ago and talking complete nonsense. I had no idea what she was trying to tell me." The younger man nodded back and grabbed a seat against the wall, looking at his partner. She laid still on the gurney, propped up into a sitting position. She was wearing a light blue sweater, but not her coat. Her head tilted to the side listlessly. He did not like the look of that.

The EMTs were both busy, checking paperwork and adjusting all the machines they had in the back of the ambulance. They had her hooked up to a heart monitor and the oxygen. He shook her shoulder a little, calling her name. She shrugged a little, but didn't open her eyes. The female medic spoke, "You've got to be a little bit more aggressive than that, Detective." She reached over and rubbed her knuckles harshly against Olivia's breastbone. "Careful, last time I did this she took a swing at me. She's got a mean right hook."

"Tell me about it," Elliot replied, as the medic's attempt worked. Olivia's eyes shot open and she sat up part way, flinging her arms at the medic, who replied "Well, that was better than last time."

"Olivia! Look at me! Liv!" Elliot called, trying desperately to get her attention before her eyes closed again. She turned and looked at him through heavy lidded eyes. "Elliot, what are you doing here?" She looked confused at the circumstances.

"We're all here, Liv. Do you remember what happened in the building? You were there talking to Alissa and her son. Remember?"

"Yeah, it was hot," her voice started to trail off, her eyes closing. He shook her again.

"Olivia! Stay awake! Open your eyes. Tell me what happened." She looked at him again.

"There was poison, I think it was in the radiator. It got cold and the radiator went on and then it was too hot. I was dizzy. Alissa passed out in the kitchen, but I couldn't carry them both and I broke the window and yelled at the neighbors. I could only get to the hallway, the stairs...I couldn't do the stairs, I was falling. I was going to fall down the stairs like her." She was more awake now.

Elliot was starting to lose track of what she was saying, remembering what Cragen had said. "She fell down the stairs, I didn't want to fall too, but it was too cold for her. I couldn't help her that time, only every other time. It was too cold." She looked at Elliot "Too cold!" she repeated emphatically.

Elliot wondered who she was talking about, if it was still the people in the building or if she was lost somewhere inside her head. "I helped her before, other times she fell, but not this time. And it was the coldest night." Her eyes started to droop again, her head tilting sideways. Elliot shook her again.

"Keep her talking, Detective, it'll keep her breathing," the medic told him.

"Olivia, what else do you remember? What did Alissa tell you?"

"Alissa?" she repeated in confusion. "I don't remember. The boy had a pet tiger, it was a toy, he wouldn't let it go. She had a leopard. I loved it. She said I could have it some day, it was the only thing she would give me and then she ruined that too, that night. I thought I was so grown up. It was silly but I really wanted the leopard, it's like she ruined it just to spite me for not being there," she said sadly.

The first medic came back to the ambulance. "Fire chief agrees about the respiratory depression, says the gas is probably similar to carbon monoxide. Regular air is heavier that the CO, so it rises up off the floor, where the heating usually is."

Olivia started mumbling again, eyes half closed. "Heavy," she repeated. "He's not heavy, he's my brother." She gave Elliot a crooked smile. "My brother," she repeated. "If something happens to me no one will know to tell him. No one will know. Elliot, tell Fin. Tell Fin to tell Simon."

Who the hell was she talking about? He didn't know anyone named Simon, he didn't know if Olivia did. Maybe she meant Shawn? "You're going to be fine, Liv. Don't worry, you'll be okay." he replied, giving her the assurance that he didn't feel himself.

"Okay, but tell Fin just in case."

"Okay, Liv, who is Simon? Do you mean Shawn? We'll find him."

"No, not Shawn, if something happens Casey will tell him," her words were slightly slurred, he eyelids heavy again. "He hit her with a spit ball, you know." Elliot smiled in spite of the situation. If the situation wasn't so serious, it would be comical. She was high as a kite.

Her eyelids fluttered closed and he shook her arm again, she didn't respond and he looked to the female medic in a panic. She reached over and rubbed her knuckle into Olivia's sternum again. She shrugged in response, but didn't open her eyes.

"Her O2 is dropping again, back down to 90%." She leaned over and turned up the dial on the oxygen tank. We need to get going soon. It looks like whatever this is, it isn't a temporary thing." She reached over and knuckled the pale detective again. This time she opened her eyes. She looked over at Elliot, who was still holding her hand.

"His name is Bartoletti, Joseph Baroletti," she said vaguely, with a slight slur. "But he is dead. Like really dead, not like Alex, she is only sort of dead. It's harder that way. I lost her," she said in a panic. "I lost her. I lost Ginny too, she was like my mom, only nice. They hit her, Elliot! They hit her and I lost her. And there was a baby!" She said it like she was surprised. Elliot had no idea what she was talking about. He was following part of what she was saying, but the rest made sense only in his partners mind. "I didn't know, Elliot, I swear I didn't know. I lost them all. I am no good, Elliot, I lose them all. Except Bartoletti, him I never even had. Probably it's better that way."

"Who's Bartoletti, Liv? Is he a suspect?"

"Yeah, he's a suspect. He is my best dream and my worst nightmare."

"Who is he, Liv?"

She grinned at him the same crooked smile, "He's a plumber, Elliot. In New Jersey. That is a whole different state, like Oregon. I didn't like it in Oregon, it was cold and hungry and I lost everything, my past and my future." She was starting to slur her words together, he was having a hard time understanding her now. The medic was watching the green numbers on the monitor. It had gone back up to 91 but was now back down to 88%. "We gotten run, Joe," she called to her partner. She placed a pastic mask over Olivia's nose and mouth and dialed up the oxygen. "Her sats are dropping again."

The other medic hopped in the driver's seat as Elliot pulled out his radio and told the Captain he was riding with her. Cragen confirmed that they'd handle the rest of the scene and call him soon. He shook Olivia's arm, she turned her head and opened her eyes. She smiled at him through the mask. She tried to talk but couldn't. She reached up and pulled the past away. "I'm glad you're here, El. I am, I know I've been gone, but I had to go, it was better. But then I found out I shouldn't have gone but now it's too late. Do you think that Richard White will ever come back? Or that missing boy from the ball park? Maybe they will come back together, with Alex," she grabbed Elliot's hand.

They rambled downtown towards the directed hospital. Olivia continued to spout nonsense. Elliot knew some of the topics, but a lot of it didn't make sense. He wondered if she would remember any of it tomorrow. With the face mask and increased oxygen, her oxygen saturation had increased back up to 92% as they pulled into the ER bay. The ambulance was swarmed by nurses and a doctor in a white coat, leaving Elliot out of the loop. He followed shortly behind knowing there was no way they would let him get close now. He settled himself into one of the chairs to wait and pulled out his phone to call his captain.

About an hour passed before a doctor came out to let him know how things were going. They'd gotten her stabilized on the oxygen, were checking blood work to see if they could identify what it was. Her oxygen levels were still low, but were good enough that she wasn't considered critical. She'd have to stay in the hospital until they improved, she had to be without oxygen for at least 4 hours before they'd let her go. 'She is going to be so pissed when she wakes up,' is all Elliot could think. The panic passing once he knew she would be okay, he knew she would be like an angry caged animal until she was released. The doctor told him they were moving her upstairs and gave him a room number. He gave her his thanks and made another phone call to the captain before heading upstairs to meet Olivia.

He sat to the side of her bed as she slept, cup of coffee in his hand. He didn't know when she would wake up, but figured she'd want a familiar face nearby. The doctors didn't know how much of the event and day she would remember. He'd been concerned about her sleeping, but they assured him they were monitoring everything, even checking her blood every two hours to make sure everything was okay and that it was okay for her to sleep it off. They assured him she would probably wake up with what felt like the worst hangover of her life.

The Captain and Fin and Munch stopped by, bringing him some food and another cup of coffee. The nursing staff had told him in no uncertain terms that he would not be allowed to stay the night, but he figured he'd stay until they kicked him out. Around 9pm, Shawn the Boyfriend as Elliot thought of him, stopped by. Elliot remember their other single meeting with some awkwardness, but Shawn didn't seem to feel that way. His friendly demeanor was shrouded with concern for Olivia, which Elliot appreciated. She didn't stir when they chatted briefly. Elliot remembered what Olivia had said in the ambulance about Casey knowing Shawn and being hit by one of his spitballs. He wondered if that was true or if it was the drug talking. Figuring he'd take the chance to find out, he asked, "So, how do you know Casey?"

Shawn looked up in surprise. He wondered briefly how Elliot knew he knew Casey, but figured people talk. He shrugged to himself. "I grew up with her brothers, hung out at her house a lot. There were so many Novak boys nobody really noticed an extra now and then. We used to pick on her, she was such a scrawny little kid..." He said with humor in his voice.

"Is that where the spitball comes in?"

"Ha, yeah, I don't think she has forgiven me for that yet. It was a great one."

"Hmm," Elliot replied. "I can't imagine the Casey I know putting up with anything like that for very long."

"No," Shawn replied. "She didn't. We used to play baseball in this field behind her house, there were almost enough of us for a full team. Casey always wanted to play and we always let her because we were short a player or two. We spent a couple of years absolutely taking advantage of her age and size. We always made her pitch so we could practice batting off her. We smoked her so many times one summer I thought she'd never forgive us."

"So what happened?" Elliot asked, knowing Casey there had to be more to that story.

"Unbeknownst to us, she had stolen a lot of our baseballs by the end of that summer and stacked them away. She spent the whole winter throwing pitches at the garage, plus she grew about 6 inches that year. The next season she played on one of the opposing teams in the district. The first time she played her brothers and I, she had us eating her dust. I think she threw a no-hitter that game. We did not appreciate getting beaten someone we thought of as a kid. I think that's when the spitball situation happened. 14 year old boys are not the most understanding or considerate of creatures. She didn't speak to us for weeks."

"I can see it. Casey does have an amazing ability to hold a grudge when she means it."

They both turned to the bed as one of the machines beeped as Olivia stirred. The nurse came in and gave both men a look. "Visiting hours end at 11pm. You guys can come back in the morning." She gave them a look that said she meant business. Elliot squeezed Olivia's hand as he left the room. He looked over his shoulder to see Shawn doing the same thing, as well as brush her hair off her forehead. She didn't move again, but he could see her chest rising and falling in a comforting, rhythmic pattern. He turned to head home, happy that his friend had found someone that for once, seemed good enough for her.

Elliot called the hospital the next morning, reached the nurse that had kicked him out the night before. She told him that Olivia was awake and transferred the call into her room. She sounded tired, but was thankfully making sense. She told him the doctors were planning to release her around noon, providing everything stayed as it was now. He told her he'd come by to pick her up and she agreed.

In the precinct a few hours later, Fin and Elliot sat pouring over the files, photos and reports about the building. HazMat had been called in to take a look at the chemicals that had been stored in the basement, but they still were hitting dead ends regarding who had put them there in the first place. At around 10am, their work was interrupted by a man who stepped into the bullpen with hesitancy.

"Can I help you?" Elliot asked the man, who had a worried look on his face and a newspaper in his hand.

"I'm looking for Olivia Benson. Is she here? Is she okay? My wife saw this in the paper." He showed them the article about the building evacuation that appeared in the morning paper. It mentioned a female SVU detective that had been injured, but not Olivia by name. "I've been calling her all morning and she's not answering her phone and she's not at home. I just want to make sure she's okay." The man was getting pretty agitated.

"Okay, okay.." Elliot said, trying to calm down the panicked man.

Fin spoke up. "What did you say your name was, son?" he asked in a kindly voice.

"Simon. Simon Marsden. Look, please just tell me that she's okay. Is she here."

"Simon? Come here with me, we'll see if we can help you out." Fin led the younger man to one of the offices to the side of the room. He left the door open, but the conversation was out of earshot.

Elliot didn't think much of it at first, grateful for Fin for taking care of the situation so he didn't have to. Then he remembered some of the nonsense Olivia had been talking about in the ambulance the other day. Who the hell is this Simon character? Was it cooincidence? He couldn't remember what else she had said about him, except he was mentioned in the same sentence as a brother, or that old rock song. She didn't have a brother, her mind must've been clouded by the drug and the power of association. At least that was what he had thought at the time, until a man called Simon showed up at the station.

A minute later, then man shook Fin's hand and left the bullpen. Fin came back to his desk and sat down without comment. Elliot stood staring at him, still a little bit baffled.

"Fin," he asked. "Do you know what that was?" He tried to sound unconcerned and not suspicious.

Fin looked up at him and squinted his eyes. "Do YOU know who that was?" he countered.

Elliot shook his head no. "Never seen him before." He looked at Fin for an answer to his question, but didn't get one. The man had his head down looking through the files, communicating clearly that he was done talking.

Elliot felt himself bristling at the cold shoulder. He was so sick of secrets. Olivia wasn't telling him anything and now Fin wasn't either. He glanced at his watch. He was going to get to the bottom of this. He grabbed his coat. "I'm going to pick up Liv, I'll be back this afternoon." Fin waved him off without a word.


	8. Chapter 8

On his way to the hospital in the police sedan, Elliot reconsidered what he'd heard Olivia say the day before. Some of it he knew made sense, but a lot of it didn't. He'd discounted it as nonsense, induced hallucinations from the drug or toxin or whatever the hell it was in that building. He tried to remember what else she'd said. If Simon was a real person with some unknown connection to her, what else had she talked about? A pet leopard? A woman who fell down the stairs? In winter? Probably her mother, Elliot thought. The guilt about it being too cold and not picking her up that one time fit into what he knew. He knew Olivia had spent a great deal of her childhood picking up after her alcoholic mother. She was fixating on losing things, or people: Alex, someone named Jenny? Was this a person from Oregon? Plus a missing baby. Elliot wracked his brain to remember if they'd had any cases with a missing or lost infant. He couldn't think of any that were recent enough or unresolved. She seemed so genuinely heartbroken at the thought of what was lost. She knew that Alex was alive, but in hiding, but the others. He had no idea. What was the name of the guy from Jersey that she was so worried about? Bartoletti. That name didn't ring a bell. She'd said he was a suspect, but he didn't know for what. He'd scoured every piece of information they had on the current case and there wasn't anything even similar to Bartoletti in there.

He walked up to Olivia's room, trying to shield the two large coffees he had in his hands. He stopped at the nurse's station and asked where he was headed. The nurse nodded at him and said she was awake and to go on in, and told him that she wouldn't rat him out for the coffees as long as he didn't flaunt it. He stuck his head in the door and saw Olivia lying on her back, eyes closed. As if she knew he was there, her eyes fluttered open.

"Elliot," she called, without moving. "Come in!" She struggled slowly to sit up as he pulled the chair around towards the bed. He handed her one of the coffee's he was holding. She held it with both hands like it was made of precious metal and inhaled the scent. "Bless you," she said to him, with mock reverence.

"Don't tell the nurses," he warned. "How're you feeling?" he asked gently.

"Like I have the worst hangover of my life," she replied. He chuckled, remembering what the doctor told him yesterday. She glared at him. "It's not funny."

"I know. I'm just glad to see you awake and forming coherent sentences this morning."

"Ugh." She flopped back into the bed. "What did I say? The doctor said I was mumbling all sorts of nonsense. Please tell me it wasn't embarrassing stuff."

"Nah, it wasn't embarrassing. I don't know half the stuff you were talking about. You mentioned a pet leopard." She looked at him confused, then shrugged. "And Alex."

"A leopard? Alex? Did I...?"

"Spill the beans?" He asked. "No, and even if you had, anyone who overheard you thought you were high as a kite so they wouldn't have thought anything of it."

"Good," she said, playing with the oxygen sensor on her finger. The green number on the screen above the bed flashed a steady 96%.

"What's the story with the leopard?" Elliot asked, easing into the conversation her really wanted to have.

"Leopard? I have no idea," she replied, genuinely confused.

Elliot shrugged his shoulders. "I think it had something to do with your mother. She wouldn't let you have one, or she ruined one or something."

"Ohhh," Olivia replied softly as it dawned on her. "My mother had a leopard print purse, a clutch, with blue satin lining. I loved that thing as a girl. My mother always promised I could have it when I was grown up. She had it with her the day she died. There was blood on it, and it got wet in the snow. It was ruined. The little kid in me was so mad at her for ruining that clutch." She chuckled painfully at the memory and fidgeted again with the oxygen sensor. He smiled softly at her in return.

"Olivia?" Elliot asked. He didn't care if this was hitting someone when they were down, he wanted, no, needed to know. "Who is Simon?"

Her fidgeting stopped immediately, but she didn't look up.

"What do you mean 'Who is Simon?'" she asked, still avoiding eye contact.

He hesitated a minute before replying. "Yesterday... Yesterday you were rambling on and on and you mentioned someone called Simon and asked me to tell Fin to call him if anything happened. You mentioned how your brother wasn't heavy, you know that old song... But then this morning, a man named Simon wandered into the precinct and demands to know if you were okay. His wife read about you in the newspaper." Suddenly he noticed the folded newspaper sitting on the bedside table. He swore it was the same paper, the same article that the man had been holding that morning at this precinct.

She still hadn't replied. He repeated, "Olivia, who is Simon?"

"Don't worry about Simon, Elliot."

"I'm not worried about him," he replied. "I'm worried about you. Who is he and why would he need to know if something happened to you."

She was painted into a corner. She could lie, refuse to answer his questions, or she could tell the truth. The first two were no good, he would know she was lying and wouldn't let the subject go if she refused. 'Damn him,' she thought. She didn't really want him to know, wasn't ready to share that part of her life with him. She wasn't sure what his reaction would be. She hoped he would be happy for her, but there was a part of her that was afraid he was going to be overprotective and overbearing and accuse her of being naive.

Seeing her hesitate, he repeated himself, "Who is he, Liv?"

"His name is Simon Marsden. He lives with his pregnant wife and stepson in New Jersey where he works as a pharmacist and he shares one-half of my DNA."

She looked up at him then, looked straight at him to gauge his response. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that.

"He what?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"We have the same father, Elliot."

"How did you find him? How long have you known?"

"Remember the case with the O'Brian's last summer? The kinship DNA? I had Melinda run my DNA through the system. Simon popped up, he'd submitted his DNA in a dragnet several years ago."

"The O'Brian case? That was last summer! You've known him for almost a year."

"No. I've known ABOUT him since then. I only met him last fall."

Elliot was still a little stunned, not only at what he'd told her, but also that she'd kept something like this from him. He'd thought back to last fall, they'd fought constantly, had gone for days at a time without speaking except when absolutely necessary. No wonder she hadn't told him.

"Fin knows?" he asked.

She nodded. "He drove me to New Jersey that first time. It's not exactly near the train and without my own car..." she trailed off.

"Liv, what about his-" his question was cut off when the doctor entered the room. It was a different doctor than had spoken to him yesterday.

"Well, Ms. Benson, I think you are ready to get out of here, do you agree?"

"The sooner the better," she replied.

The doctor nodded in agreement. "Your oxygen levels have been good all night, they even stayed high enough off the oxygen this morning to let you go. You probably don't remember, but we tried to wean you off the oxygen last night, but your levels kept dropping to about 90. 90 is okay for an 80 year old with COPD, but not for a cop trying to protect me from the bad guys, so we forced you to stay overnight. You were still pretty loopy so it's probably a good thing anyway. We still don't know exactly what the gas was, but we've submitted all the testing and reports. It's up to you guys now. The nurse has all your instructions. Best of luck to you, Detective." She smiled one last time, shook her hand, nodded at Elliot and was gone.

She was already up out of bed, reaching for the bag of clothes he'd brought for her from her apartment before he could get another word out. He still had so many questions. So far everything that she'd said yesterday had turned out to be 100% true. Alex not being dead, Simon, her brother, the spitball. What else was there?

On their way to the car, with Olivia walking beside him, adamantly refusing the wheelchair the nurses had brought her, Elliot informed her that he was under strict orders to bring her home, not to work, but to have her call them as soon as she was home to let them know how she was. She huffed her acknowledgment, knowing she was not going to win that argument. He also told her about his conversation with Shawn the night before. She hadn't heard the complete story of the spitball and laughed at the idea of a skinny, young Casey pissing off her brothers and their friends.

"He seems like a good man, Liv." Elliot said, referring to Shawn. She looked at Elliot in surprise.

"Since when do you like any of the guys that I date?" she asked suspiciously.

Elliot grimaced, they'd had this argument about how he didn't get to have an opinion on the guys she dated, except that he always did, a million times. "Well maybe this is the first time I've thought someone made you happy enough." She just looked at him with a half scowl, half smile on her face.

"Hmph." she replied.

Twenty minutes later they were entering her apartment. She called the Cap and spoke with everyone there on speakerphone, reassuring them that she was fine, didn't need anything and would be there tomorrow.

"Look, El, I'm fine here. I don't need a babysitter." She gestured toward the door.

"Olivia,,," he started.

"Elliot," she countered. "Do we have to talk about this now? I really don't want to..."

"Yeah, we need to talk about this now. What about Simon's….Your… father?"

She sighed and grabbed the old quilt from the couch, hugging to her stomach. Elliot vaguely wondered where she'd picked that up. It looked old.

"He lived in New Jersey, he worked as a plumber. According to Simon he was a regular guy who worked and liked the Mets. He died in 1985 of complications from lung cancer after smoking his whole life. Simon was 10. He was adopted by the guy his mother remarried, Frank Marsden, so his name was different."

Suddenly something in Elliot's brain clicked. A plumber. Her best dream and worst nightmare. "Joseph Bartoletti," Elliot said quietly. She looked up at him.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"You mentioned him yesterday, in the ambulance. I didn't know what you meant, you said he was a suspect. You meant in you mother's..."

She cut him off. "I said what?"

"You kept mentioning how you had lost so many things, so many people: Alex, your mother, someone named Jenny..."

"Ginny," she interrupted, "her name was Ginny."

Elliot nodded at her. "Yeah, and you mentioned his name. I didn't know what you meant, a missing baby, Ginny, Bartoletti, Oregon." I thought they were all part of what you were hiding about Oregon."

She looked down at her hands then. She knew she had been unfair to him, not telling him about Oregon. She knew the secrets had hurt him and she felt bad because she wanted him to suffer a little, like she had before she had left.

"El..." she spoke slowly. He didn't say anything, giving her time to say what she wanted. "I'm sorry for not telling you, for..."

"So tell me now," he countered.

"Well, Bartoletti, you basically know what I know now. Simon has memories of him from when he was a kid, good memories. NORMAL memories, but I don't know what that means. He says he was just a normal guy." She shrugged. "He worked for Columbia in the late 60s..." She was referring to where her mother had been assaulted. "My mother lied to me about a lot of things..."

"Are you going to believe the memories of a ten year old kid over what your mother told you?" he asked incredulously. "You don't know anything about him."

"I dunno, I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't think so. But Simon...Simon... He's my only chance...You must think I'm crazy."

Elliot nodded. "I don't think you are crazy, but damn Liv, what kind of risks are you taking with this guy. He knows where you live, where you work. What's next, are you going to leave him your pension?" He was livid with her, both for keeping so something like this from him and for how cavalier she was being with this guy who was essentially a stranger.

She snorted at him angrily. "And so what if I do! Who else am I going to leave it for if I die? My husband and pile of kids, El?". She looked at him with sparks in her eyes. Her cheeks were bright red, her lips almost white with rage. "I don't have anyone else Elliot. You can't blame me for wanting what everyone else has." She threw the pillow she'd been holding onto the couch in a fit.

"Does Shawn know?" Elliot asked.

That kind of came out of left field. "Yes, he knows. He knows I grew up alone and I recently found out have a brother. He knows about my mother and he knows about Simon's father."

"And your father," Elliot said pointedly. She didn't say anything back. "So you can tell this 'bozo' you've known for a few weeks about this, but you can't tell me? What's that about Liv?"

She spun around and spat at him "He's not a bozo. And I told him because the stakes with him are a lot lower. I have a lot less to lose with him."

She knew he would react this way. This is why she hadn't told him months ago. She was furious with him. He had everything. A wife, a family, a home. She had a one bedroom apartment and a series of unfulfilling relationships. She didn't need or want his judgement on a chance for a family.

Elliot contemplated her words. The thoughts were flying through his mind at lightning speed. A lot less to lose? How could she open herself up to getting hurt by this stranger, this guy she knew nothing about.

"Liv, you don't know anything about him. All you know is that half of him is a violent rapist. You don't know-"

She cut him off. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I don't know what he's capable of? What kind of person he is? What was passed on to him?" She was yelling now. "You're right, I have no idea what kind of horrific things are inside of Simon with such a terrible person for a father. Get out, Elliot." And with that she turned into the bedroom and slammed the door, leaving her partner standing alone in the living room.

On the other side of the bedroom door, Olivia felt the hot tears spilling down her cheeks. In her rage she didn't know when she had started crying. Her back to the closed door, she sunk down to the floor and let the silent sobs shake her shoulders.

Elliot stood alone in the empty, silent room. He ran his hands over his short hair and looked toward the ceiling. He regretted his words as soon as they had left his lips. He knew he had hurt her, hurt her badly. This was the one thing he had promised himself he would never bring up with her. And what had he done? He finally gotten her to talk and then he'd said the worst thing he possibly could have. He turned to the closed bedroom door. He listened quietly for any hints of movement. Nothing.

On the other side of the door, Olivia heard him approached and stilled herself. She heard him knock and call her name. She held her breath, willing him to leave. After a minute she heard retreating footsteps and then the apartment door close. Knowing she was finally alone in her apartment, she let out her breath and with it the harsh painful sobs she'd been holding inside.

Elliot sat in the squad car debating what do to, he didn't have much choice but to head back to work, they were expecting him. He looked back up at his partner's apartment. He sighed again and rubbed his head. He slammed the car into drive and hit the gas as he sped back to the 1-6. He was so angry with himself and with Olivia. What kind of shit was she trying to pull? She had no idea what this guy was capable of. Suddenly, through his rage, he truly realized what he had said, what he had accused her 'brother' of being and therefore accused her of being. They had discussed this issue before, but only when she had brought it up, and he had always tried to be as supportive and relaxed about it as possible. He had always avoided any kind of insinuation based on her past. Almost 10 years of careful and he'd blown it. She'd trusted him with that information, just as she had, eventually, trusted him with the information about the existence of her brother and he had turned around and stomped on that trust.

He himself stomped into the precinct threw down his coat angrily and started typing at his computer like he could take all his frustration out on his keyboard. Seeing his reaction, Munch and Fin shared a knowing glance. Munch spoke up, "Hey, Stabler. How's your partner? She piss you off that badly between the hospital and here?"

Elliot shot him a look that clearly meant 'Leave me alone,' but something in him made him suck up his emotions. "Yeah, she's doing fine" (Or at least she was before I called her a violent, unstable person, he thought). "She'll be back tomorrow." (But she probably won't be speaking with me).

Figuring that they weren't going to get to the bottom of Elliot's anger and not wanting to push his buttons, they two detectives let it go. His mood didn't improve any throughout the day and as soon as he was able he shot out the front door. He had called Olivia twice on his way home. He thought briefly about stopping by her apartment, but ultimately decided against it. She wasn't going to open the door for him. Not today.

Back in her apartment, Olivia cried until her tears ran dry. She felt she was crying for all the things about her relationship with Elliot that she couldn't fix, everything she had never cried for before. His anger, his over protective tendencies, their co-dependence on each other. She cried for Gitano, Richard White, Plummer. Then she cried again for Ginny, for the lost baby, for her brother, the years lost with him, for her mother and the years of neglect and anger. Finally, with a heavy heart and burning eyes, the sobs had stopped. She stood, a little shaky on her feet and moved to the bathroom. She purposely kept her eyes away from her mirror. She didn't even want to imagine what she looked like right now. Turning the water on as hot as she could stand, she stood under the spray and let the water run into her eyes. Finally using up the last of the hot water, she turned it off and toweled herself off, allowing herself to glance at the mirror now. Her eyes were still red and puffy, with dark circles, but she'd looked worse. As she pulled on a pair of sweats and a tank top, she heard a pounding at her door and her cell phone buzzing in the other room. Listening closely, she could hear Shawn calling her name. She'd forgotten that he was stopping by this afternoon. Calling back to him that she'd be there in a second, she ran her fingers through her hair, took once last glance in the mirror and shrugged. She was officially over trying to impress this guy all the time. He could stick around if he liked what he got or not; she hoped he would, but she wasn't putting on makeup today, no matter what he thought.

She opened the door a moment later and he swooped in on her, enveloping her in a hug. "You're okay?" he asked her, holding her face in his hands. She loved it when he did that, it made her feel feminine and precious, and a little awkward, since she rarely thought she was either feminine or precious. She shrugged his hands away gently.


	9. Chapter 9

_She opened the door a moment later and he swooped in on her, enveloping her in a hug. "You're okay?" he asked her, holding her face in his hands. She loved it when he did that, it made her feel feminine and precious, and a little awkward, since she rarely thought she was either feminine or precious. She shrugged his hands away gently._

"Clean bill of health," she replied, turning into the apartment. He followed her to the living room, where she sat on the sofa. She didn't know where to begin with him. He looked at her, taking in her red eyes, her clothes, her wet hair. Putting two and two together, he changed the subject away from what they were both thinking.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, rummaging around her kitchen for the stack of takeout menus.

"Yeah, sure," she replied, even though she wasn't even remotely hungry. At least food would give her something to focus on that didn't involve a broken heart.

"Curry okay?" he asked, holding a Thai menu for the place around the corner. She nodded and he placed the order quickly, then came to sit by her on the sofa. Shawn sat down and looked at Olivia. She had her shoulders hunched and she was looking down at her hands. "So..." he offered.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Something tells me that the look in your eyes has less to do with almost getting killed yesterday and more to do with something or someone else. Wanna share?"

She shook her head no. Her heart was still too bruised to talk about it. She needed a little time to process everything first. Instead she told him about staying in the hospital. "Apparently the nurse's were pretty excited about the two guys sitting in my room all night," she joked, referring to Elliot and Shawn's vigil the night before.

"Well, you will be happy to know we had a whole conversation that didn't descend into threats AND we didn't even have a pissing contest."

"A mean feat," she replied sardonically. "You'd think that at your age, getting through a conversation with someone without violence wouldn't be something you need to be proud of."

"Hey, your partner is the loose cannon, not me, remember?" he joked back.

At the mention of Elliot, he could see her shoulders stiffen again. "Liv," he said, "What happened?"

"I told him about Simon," she said. "I guess I was mumbling some nonsense in the ambulance and mentioned him. Whatever I said got him curious and he asked. I couldn't think up a good enough excuse not to tell him so I told him the truth."

"And it didn't go well?"

"At first he was just shocked, but then he started asking about Simon's...my...father and he started yelling about how I shouldn't be getting so close to Simon, shouldn't let him know where I live, how I don't know what kind of person he is. He said some horrible things. Horrible things that he meant to warn me against in Simon, without remembering that I have those same horrible things in me." She could barely get the words out, was choking on them. Her eyes were dry though, there weren't any tears left.

"I am so angry with him. I trusted him for years with that information. I never thought he would use it against me, never thought he actually thought those things. I can't believe he kept that hidden for so long. And I think..." She stopped. Not even Shawn was ready to hear this. Plus, once he heard what she had to say, he probably wouldn't stick around. She'd told Elliot she'd told Shawn about Simon because the stakes were lower with him, she had less to lose with him if he decided not to stick around. That had been true, but they'd grown closer since then and now with things with Elliot almost beyond repair, she was starting to not feel the same way.

Shawn still hadn't said anything, he was waiting for her to go on. His heart was hurting for her. It wasn't fair that someone as wonderful as Olivia Benson had to go through life thinking those things. It wasn't fair that people treated her like that and it certainly wasn't fair of Elliot Stabler to say those things about her. As he sat silently, waiting for his girlfriend to continue, he got more and more angry and was trying hard not to let it show. Apparently it worked, or perhaps Olivia was just too distracted to notice how tense he was. If she had, she probably would have misinterpreted it as reaction to what she had told him, but she didn't.

"I think..." she went on. "I think I got so angry and cried so hard because I was afraid of those same things. I agree with him. About Simon, about me." Suddenly panicked at what she had just said, she jumped up. "Maybe you should go," she said, pacing around the living room. She felt all the accusations of her childhood, her mother's inability to look at her without seeing 'him'. She felt all her own doubts about herself, her unknown heritage crushing down on her. If she couldn't even stand to be in the same room as herself how could anybody else? Clearly her partner and best friend couldn't.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Shawn stood and looked at her. "No," he said calmly. "I think I better stay. We just ordered dinner." He said it as calmly as if she had just suggested having a glass of water with dinner, or going for an afternoon stroll. He used the time it took to pay the delivery guy and sort out the food to decide what he was going to say. He decided on the simply, direct approach. She didn't look like she wanted to talk it all out, but he couldn't let her go on thinking like she was.

Olivia had sat back down on the couch, legs bent in front of her. She didn't look up at him until he walked over and shoved a container of pad thai and chopsticks into her hands. He set two beers down on the coffee table in front of them.

"Olivia. None of those things are true. Regardless of who or what your father was, you are none of those things. None of them," repeated with emphasis. "And I don't think Simon is either. You're right that you don't know what he passed on to you, but you do know, and I know, that there are none of those things in you. You are passionate and kind and loving and you see the best in people. Now, eat your pad thai." He gestured towards the open container, still untouched in her hands.

She felt a sudden release, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. 'How the hell does he do that?' she wondered. He always seems to know the right thing to say and when to say it. She unconsciously contrasted him to Elliot, her one model for a decent male in her life. Elliot cared, at least she thought he had cared, but he stuck his foot in his mouth as often as he said something that was truly helpful. Her face fell again at the reminder of the words he'd said. At the same time, she was running through her brain all of the mistakes she had made. Plummer, White, Oregon. Oh, god, Oregon. She gave an involuntary shudder. What was she thinking? She couldn't be with a guy like Shawn. She had way too much baggage for his nice, sunny upbringing.

"Shawn," she spoke up quietly. "I am not sure why you are still here. I have way too much baggage for you. You need someone simple, who hasn't made mistakes that will follow them forever."

He looked up at her in surprise. Where had that come from? "I don't want someone simple, I want you. Look, Liv, we all have baggage. Some people's baggage is more obvious than others, some people try harder to hide it, but we all have some. If you don't, you aren't an adult."

She thought about what he'd said. She ate some of the noodles in front of her. Instinct had won out and she realized she really was hungry. After a minute she asked, "What's the worst thing that's every happened to you?"

Shawn stopped eating for a moment, contemplating the women in front of her. With her damp hair, and big brown eyes staring at him, it felt like she was looking inside his soul searching for something. He hoped he had the right thing to offer.

He took another bite and then started to answer. "When I was 10 I gave my brother a bloody nose. We'd been fighting all day over some stupid toy. He was 2 years younger than me and while normally we got along fine, sometimes he was the most annoying person on the planet. I don't even remember exactly how is started, but I grabbed him and swung at him, connected squarely on his nose. It started bleeding and my mom threw a fit, and then my dad threw a fit. His nose bled for three hours straight before they brought him to the hospital. He died of leukemia 6 months later. His name was Robbie."

"I'm so sorry," Olivia muttered, not knowing how to respond.

"Thanks. You know, the guilt I had over that haunted me for years. My parents, teachers, doctors, friends, everyone told me it wasn't my fault but it was years before I actually believed inside of me that I didn't cause my brothers death. It's the magical thinking of kids right? If I hadn't punched him and made his nose bleed, then he never would have gone to the hospital, etc etc. I know, knew, that it's not true, but it took a long, long time for me to feel that way. Does that make sense?" He looked up at her.

"Yes," she replied. "It makes perfect sense. Thank you for telling me." He smiled at her, reached for the beers on the table and handed her one, tipping his towards her in the gesture of a toast and then taking a long swallow.

"See, we're all damaged. Working through that damage is what life is about."

"What's the worst thing that ever happened to you?" he asked.

Somehow Olivia knew that he didn't mean anything about her father, her mother's rape. Technically those things hadn't happened to her. She thought for a moment before she spoke, thinking through all the things in the running for title of 'the worst.' Gitano had been close. Plummer too. The car accident with Kathy was horrible, but it had ended well. Her thoughts kept running to Oregon. It'd been almost 6 months now. That seemed hard to believe. "When I was undercover," she began, doubting herself even as she said the words. She told him about Ginny, about not being able to protect her, seeing her get hit and the guilt she felt about it still." He nodded and leaned over and squeezed her hand and didn't say a word. She understood.

They finished their food in silence. As the cleaned up the boxes and napkins spread around the table, Shawn finally spoke. "I'm probably going to punch Stabler's lights out the next time I see him." Olivia almost choked on the swallow of beer she'd just taken.

"Oh my god. You have got to be kidding."

"Nope, don't think so. I mean, I'll try not to, but I probably will. You going back to work tomorrow?"

"Yeah. One day off was plenty."

"You going to talk to him?"

"Talk to him about this or talk to him in general?" she asked.

"In general," Shawn replied.

"No," she replied without a thought. "Not unless I can help it."

He grinned at her. "I should have gotten the number of that other detective you work with. The old guy with the glasses who was at the hospital. He seemed like a straight up guy and someone should warn him of the shitstorm that's going to hit tomorrow. Maybe he'll want to take the day off."

She snorted at him as they settled into the couch to watch an old black on white movie on the tv.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thanks for the reviews. The stories not over yet but I'm still trying to sort out how it's all going to go down. _

True to her response, she'd gone back to work the next day. By mid-morning it felt like nothing had changed, unless Elliot was trying to talk to her. She'd answered him in one word sentences, or didn't answer him at all. When he'd gotten up to refill his coffee and reached for her cup, she swiftly and smoothly had picked up the mug to take an imaginary sip before he got to it. Then she got up herself to poor a cup the minute he'd sat down.

It was a pretty quiet day as far as the SVU went. Nothing out of the ordinary. No big new cases. Fin and Munch were catching anyway, thank goodness for that. Toward the end of the day she'd gone up to the locker room to grab a notepad she'd left there a few days before. As soon as she was up the stairs, Elliot jumped up and followed. Fin and Munch shared another glance.

"You wanna bet on whether or not we can hear the fireworks from here?" Munch asked.

Fin shook his head as he heard a voice behind him. "What fireworks?"

Captain Cragen had walked up beside him, handing him a couple of manila files. "Benson and Stabler probably about to have a showdown in the cribs." Munch said cryptically, figuring he'd hear about it soon enough. To their surprise, Olivia came jogging down the stairs at just that moment, notebook in hand, looking for all the world like nothing had happened up there.

"Everything okay, Liv?" Munch asked.

"Sure, John, why?" she asked. Elliot had followed her upstairs and had tried to start a conversation with her. His first words were not "I'm sorry" so she'd shut him down, telling him she had work to do and didn't have time to talk. She'd left him standing a little bewildered in the middle of the locker room. She kept her anger under wraps, kept it hidden. She couldn't hide it from Elliot though. He knew her too well. He could see her knuckles tense up, grabbing the pen a little harder when he spoke, saw her jaw clench before she spoke. He was never going to get through to her. He just didn't have any other options but to try.

The same pattern continued for the rest of the week. After being called in on Saturday morning for a Missing Child case that turned out to be nothing more than a girl wandering off from the ball fields in Central Park and getting lost, the detectives turned for home, leaving the building at the same time. Olivia was busy texting Shawn to meet her at the restaurant, not at work, because they'd left a little earlier than planned when he heard him call her name. She saw him walking towards her as they walked down the stairs. She gave him a quick smile in greeting and said "I was just sending you a message saying I'd meet you there."

"Ah, well, no worries, I'm here now." Movement at the door behind her caught his eye. "One sec," he murmured and he sidestepped Olivia and headed right for Elliot as he exited the building. Not saying a word, he pulled back and punched the shorter but stockier detective in the face. "I warned you, you asshole." He said quietly, as Fin immediately grabbed him and pulled him back.

"You crazy, man, that's assaulting a police officer!" he spat out as he swung Shawn's lanky frame toward the curb. Elliot had regained his balance and was rubbing his jaw and face. 'Shit, that was going to leave a bruise.' he thought.

"Stabler, you want me to collar this guy?" Fin asked, still holding on to Shawn's arm.

"Oh my god, you two knock it off!" Olivia glared at Elliot and then at Shawn as she grabbed his arm away from Fin.

Fin looked at Elliot for an answer to his question. "Nah, let him go. He did warn me." Elliot said, still rubbing his face.

"You wanna explain to me what that was about?" Fin asked, watching his colleague drag the man down the block. He went quite willingly and Fin couldn't help but think he had a giant grin on his face. As if to confirm his thought, he heard Olivia scold "Stop smiling you idiot. You almost got yourself arrested."

"Ah, well, Olivia and I had, um, an argument. I guess her boyfriend took her side," Elliot replied.

"That's Liv's boyfriend? The FBI agent? Not exactly what I expected." Fin said, still watching the couple down the block.

"He's an FBI agent?" Elliot asked dumbly. 'That explained the right hook on such a skinny guy.' he thought.

Fin gave him a look. "Where have you been, man?" he said as he walked toward the parking lot to pick up his car.

Elliot still stood dumbfounded, standing on the steps of the precinct when Munch came through the doors. He looked at Elliot and guffawed. "How'd you manage to get a shiner in the 5 seconds since you left? You're partner finally get sick of you?"

"Something like that," he muttered and stalked off towards the parking lot after Fin.

Midway through the next week, the freeze that Olivia was giving him still hadn't dissipated. He didn't know what else to do. She wouldn't even talk with him long enough to let him get an apology out. He'd tried a few times when they were in the car, trapped together. Her response had been to turn up the radio to the maximum level, assuring that she couldn't hear anything he had to say.

By that point, even Olivia was getting tired of it. It was so much work to avoid him. She was still angry with him, still hurt, but she knew he hadn't really meant those things. She didn't think 10 years of friendship could or should be thrown out based on one argument, even if it was the argument of a lifetime. The problem now was that she didn't know how to end it either. She'd be damned if she'd bring it up, but Elliot had stopped trying to apologize after the last time she'd raised the volume of the car radio. She'd never think of Green Day the same again. She grimaced and rubbed her ears just thinking about it.

They'd been working a kiddie porn ring for the past few weeks, one that finally went to court this week. It would go down in Olivia's memory as one of the most difficult cases she could remember working. Not because the case was so difficult, but because keeping one step ahead of Elliot was exhausting. The day the verdict came in, sighs of relief went around the bullpen. Everyone wrapped things up quickly and were heading toward the local bar for some celebratory drinks. Casey was meeting them there. The four detectives and their Captain headed out together, with Elliot and Olivia keeping their distance. As they walked, Captain Cragen pulled Olivia by the arm and slowed their pace, keeping them 10 feet behind the others.

He gestured up to Elliot. "Are you ever going to fix that, Olivia?"

She followed his gaze, watched Elliot walk in front of them, good-natured banter passing between the detectives. "I dunno, Cap, not sure if it can be fixed."

"Liv, look, I'm assuming he said something, because that is how these things usually start with you two. But let me give you some advice. Fix it. Do what you need to do. You'll regret it if you don't. That's an order, not from me as your Captain, from me as your friend, understand?"

"Got it," she said sullenly. The only thing less appetizing to her than fighting with Elliot was trying to fix the dysfunction they called a partnership.

Two hours later they were several pitchers deep and much more relaxed. The Captain finished the rest of his club soda and said his goodbyes as Casey and Shawn walked in the door. They made themselves fit at the booth, Fin got up to grab a chair as Casey slid into the booth next to Elliot. Shawn grabbed the chair vacated by Cragen and scooted it next to Olivia who was sitting at the end of the other bench. She introduced him briefly to Fin and Munch while Elliot and Shawn gave each other a cursory nod. A while later, Elliot got up to use the men's room and Shawn went to get refills on their drinks. As he was leaning on the bar, waiting to get the bartenders attention, Elliot approached him on his way back to the table. Her shrewd eyes noticing what was happening from the table, Casey nudged to Olivia and said "Red alert. Are those two going to throw down here in the bar?" She gestured to the two men with their backs to the table. Olivia followed her gaze and watched for a minute.

"I don't think so. I think if they were going to it would've happened by now," Olivia replied.

Over at the bar, Elliot stood next to Shawn but didn't say anything. Shawn looked over at him and asked "How's your face?"

Elliot turned his head slightly and without missing a beat said "How's your hand?"

Shawn grinned. "Not bad," he replied. "Look, I need to apologize for..."

Elliot stopped him. "Don't worry about it. I think we both, we all know, I deserved that. Plus, you did warn me."

Shawn tilted his head in consideration. "I did," he said. "Is she speaking to you yet?"

"Nope. I counted. 12 words today, including 'Elliot, phone call,' twice. I counted it both times." He grimaced to himself.

"Impressive," Shawn replied. "I'd always considered Casey the master at the silent treatment. I might need to reconsider..." and with that he returned to the tables, beers in hand. Elliot had no choice but to follow or stand at the bar alone.

After another round of drinks and some shared food, Shawn polished off his beer and reached over Olivia's shoulder. He kissed her cheek and announced his departure. "Early flight to DC in the morning. Duty calls!" he said with a grin. Casey slid out of the booth as well, saying they should share a cab partway home. Munch had left a while earlier, leaving only Olivia, Fin and Elliot. Almost choking on the silence, Fin made a lame excuse as he grabbed the empties and took them to the bar for a refill. He took his time. He didn't think any of them wanted another whole pitcher.

Alone in the booth and fortified by the alcohol Olivia looked at her partner. "I'm still mad at you, you know," she said, surprising herself. She kept going before she could think better of it. Damn the beer, or maybe bless it. She couldn't decide. "What you said was horrible. And you know it. And I can be mad at your for as long as I want, but I want us to start talking again." She looked at him defiantly.

"Olivia. I am so sorry. You have to know that. You have to know I didn't mean those things. I was just...I dunno..."

"Angry, selfish, defensive, overprotective, neanderthalish, irrational, insulting...Need I go on?" Olivia asked. Elliot held up his hands in mock surrender.

"No, you're right I was all of those things and I don't have any excuse. I would take it all back. You have to believe me that I would never think those things." He was almost pleading with her.

"I know," she said. She could feel the alcohol almost slurring her words, but not quite. They continued to talk, oblivious that Fin never returned. He had seen them talking when he'd turned to go back to the table, and instead had turned back to the bar, ordered the last pitcher and asked the bartender to bring it over. He'd left out the back door without them even noticing. They talked for hours, bouyed by the alcohol. He told her everything he could think of that had happened. She told him about Simon, what he was like, how they had met, and about Shawn. Everytime she mentioned him, Elliot reflexively rubbed his jaw. Olivia thought that was hilarious. He told her how Kathy had reacted when he'd come home with a black eye, how he'd had to explain to his son what had happened, and how, when he finally told Kathy what he had done to deserve it, she'd made him sleep on the couch.

"Then I had a sore jaw, and a sore back. That couch is not comfortable," he said, almost petulantly.

"Ha," Olivia replied. "We might be talking, but I don't feel bad for you yet."

"Yeah. I have to say he has a mean right hook and he did warn me," Elliot said.

"What do you mean he warned you?" she asked.

"That night, the night you got kicked in the face and I brought you home," he tried to jog her memory. Surely Shawn had told her what an ass he'd been, especially after what he'd said.

She shook her head, still drawing a blank. "I mean, I remember that night, but I don't know what you're talking about."

Elliot continued, "I ran into him in the hallway outside your apartment. I introduced myself and told him..." Elliot stopped, embarrassed by what he was about to say in consideration of the past few weeks. "I told him not to hurt you or I'd find him."

Olivia's eye's almost bugged out of her face. "You told him what? Elliot! What's wrong with you?"

"I know, I know, right? And then! And then, get this!" Elliot went on, forgetting their fight all together, the alcohol affecting him as much as his partner. "And then he tells me that I've been in your head way longer than he has, that you would never let a guy you barely met hurt you and that I better not hurt you or HE would FIND me! How's that for prophetic! The guys a genius."

Olivia still looked livid. He looked over at her, a little surprised at her reaction in his alcoholic haze. Warning signs were going off in his head. "He did what? What the hell is wrong with you two. A penis and a little testosterone and you are incorrigible. Seriously, how did you ever survive to adulthood, both of you!" She said to no one in particular.

Elliot relaxed a little as he listened to her tirade. She was pissy about it, but not really mad. He poured the rest of the pitcher and ordered another. Halfway through that last pitcher, he realized they were in big trouble. He'd never get home to Queens, and Olivia could barely contain herself either. They settled the tab, adding up the cash the others had left. Olivia hoped that their math on the tip was correct. She shrugged as they slid out of the booth and onto the street to grab a taxi.

They arrived at her building, paid the cabbie and climbed the stairs to her apartment, tripping over themselves multiple times. Olivia groaned as they entered the apartment. "This was such a bad idea," she said. There is no way I'm getting up for work on time. She looked at the clock, 3am. Elliot was already sitting on her sofa, tie loosened and coat tossed to the side. She pulled the spare blanket from the closet and tossed it at him, grabbing the quilt from him for herself. "Call your wife, El. She'll be worried. But don't tell her I got you drunk. Blame Fin," she called over her shoulder as she went into her bedroom and flopped onto the bed.

She awoke the next morning to her cell phone buzzing somewhere in her bedsheets. She fumbled around for it, bringing it to her ear before her eyes were fully open.

Shawn's voice on the line perked her up just a bit. "Shawn, why are you calling so early? Ughghh" she groaned as she sat up.

"I told you I'd call before I got on the plane and I'm about to get on the plane, so... It's 630am. You're usually up by now anyway."

"Yeah, well..." She replied halfheartedly.

"Oh my god," he exclaimed. "You're hung over! On a work day! Awesome. Your boss is gonna love that."

"Shut it," she exclaimed. "Make fun of me in a quieter voice. My head hurts."

"Sorry," he replied with a smile in his voice. He did not sound the least bit sorry, she thought. "So did you and Elliot make up?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," she replied. "I think he's passed out on my couch right now."

"Good," he replied. "I'm glad that worked."

"Glad what worked?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nothing. I mean, it was Casey's idea. She thought you wouldn't be able to stand not talking if she could get you together with a couple of beers in your system. She thought you'd either have a huge blow out or make up. Possible both. I was just along for the ride."

"Remind me to kill Casey later, when my head doesn't hurt so badly."

They said there goodbyes as Shawn got on the plane and Olivia dragged herself into the shower.

On the couch, Elliot heard the water running and swore under his breath. He grabbed his phone and noticed the time. Not enough time to get back to Queens and still be on time to work. He had a spare shirt at work, he'd shower in the locker room there. He waited until he heard the water stop. He hollered at Olivia that he was leaving and he'd catch her later. She hollered back her assent.

Twenty-five minutes later she was strolling into the 1-6 bullpen, her head still pounding and her mouth full of cotton. She had four large coffees in her hands. The other three detectives grabbed the coffees and muttered their thanks.

Fin eyed Olivia closely as he sipped is coffee. "How you feeling today, Liv?"

She squinted at him. "Fine, Fin. You implying something? Like I can't handle my alcohol?" she said jokingly.

"Maybe," he replied. "Not many people could the way you and Stabler were going last night."

"Hey," Elliot piped up, "We're here, we're awake, what more do you want?" He and Olivia shared a glance.

Half the people in the room noticed that glance and breathed a sigh of relief. A hungover Benson and Stabler for a day were better than a dueling Benson and Stabler any day.

Downtown in her office, prepping for her next case, Casey glanced at her cellphone as it buzzed with a text message: From: Shawn. "It worked."

She smiled and refocused on her papers with a grin.


	11. Chapter 11

_Updating slowly but surely….this'll take some time. Please review…._

Chapter 11

A week after their beer-induced make-up session, Olivia and Elliot were returning from interviewing their newest victim in the hospital. Exiting the stairs and turning into the bullpen, Olivia stopped short and turned aside.

"Uh oh, there's trouble," she said under her breath. Following her gaze, Elliot took in the back of a head that Olivia clearly thought was too familiar. Looking at her questioningly, Elliot shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

Olivia gestured with her chin towards the man in the trench coat. "That's Dean Porter. Nothing good ever happens when he's around."

"Ah," Elliot replied. "So what're you going to do?"

She tilted her head. "Don't have much choice now, do I?" She strode into the room as if she meant to take it over.

Tossing her coat onto the back of her chair, "Agent Porter, to what do we owe this fine visit? More meddling in our cases? Perhaps a vacation offer? Lovely trailer for rent in rural Oregon?" She tried not to let the bitter note come out in her voice, but she couldn't help it. She'd made sure there was no one else in earshot besides Porter and Elliot.

"Ah, no. Detectives Benson, Stabler. Good to see you both again," he said quite formally.

"What do you want, Porter?" Olivia asked again.

He couldn't help but grin. "I see you have found your winning charm again, Detective. I'm glad your stint with us didn't cause any lasting harm."

She flinched at his words, a barely perceptible movement caught only by her partner.

Her eyebrows raised at him, she took a breath and opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind when a gentle voice saying "Olivia" brought her back to earth. "There is some tofu left over from lunch, would you like some?" she asked in an accusatory fashion.

Not really understanding what had just happened, but realized something had shifted in the air, Dean took a large manila envelope from underneath his arm. "I wanted to drop this off for you, Detective," he said, handing it to Olivia. "I thought you might be interested. Take care, Olivia," he said, and turned and left the room without further explanation.

"That is one weird guy," Elliot said watching him go. He turned back to his partner, who had opened the envelope and taken out a stack of documents with several photographs on top. She stood open mouthed, looking at each of the photos and then reading the memo on the top of the stack of papers. She had tears in her eyes.

Elliot wondered what was in the package. He would have been crazy to interrupt his partner now. Unfortunately, there were other crazy people in the department.

Fin and Munch barged into the room. "Hey, Liv, was that your spook we just saw in the hallway? What's he doing here, causing more trouble?" Both detectives stopped as they saw the look on Olivia's face. She pulled herself away from the photos and looked at them. Then she turned on her heal and ran upstairs to the crib.

"What the hell was that about?" Fin asked. "Way to go, Munch."

"Hey, how was I supposed to know she was going to look like she saw a ghost. It was just Porter, he's pretty harmless as far as spooks go. At least he never shot Elliot. Twice."

Elliot glared at Munch and rubbed his shoulder, remembering how Dana Lewis had gotten him shot. Twice. He looked up to the second floor loft where he knew Olivia was sitting. He shook his head. "Honestly, I have no idea what just happened. Porter was here, he gave Benson a packet of papers. She opened it up and went all space cadet on us." You saw what I saw.

Upstairs, Olivia could hear part of the conversation, but she was only listening with half an ear. She sat down on the couch tucked in the corner of the loft. She stayed away from the privacy of the cribs, that much privacy was just asking for a meltdown. She read the memo on the front of the packet again. It explained that a fund had been set up by the FBI in the name of Agent Michael Emerson, deceased on September 11, 2001. The fund was designed to help pay for burial costs for family members of servicemen unable to pay for their own services, and, when possible and desired, to bury family members in a neighboring plot. The next 20 pages or so were detailed explanations of cost and oversight that she didn't really care about. The last page was an explanation of the location of the grave of Michael Emerson, his brother Lt John Linus Emerson, and of their mother, Virginia Jenkins, all buried in adjacent plots in Arlington Cemetery, Virginia. The photographs were of the completed headstones and finished burial site, photos of each of her sons, a photo of Ginny and her oldest son, dated July 2001. The last photo she came about was a grainy, tinted photo, with an FBI time stamp on it, dated December 1 of this year. It showed Ginny and Olivia, standing around a table making protest signs. It looked like Ginny had just said something outrageous and Olivia was laughing out loud. There were others in the background of the photo, also smiling or laughing, but the foreground was just Ginny and Olivia. It was the first photo she had seen of her time in Oregon, and the first time she had seen a photo of her friend. She suspected this was an unauthorized copy of a file photograph. She put the rest of the papers and photos back in the envelope and started back downstairs. The photo of her and Ginny, she held in her hand, not quite wanting to part with it yet. Back at her desk, avoiding the concerned looks of her colleagues, she set the photo up against her computer screen, then moved it to lean against an old photo of Elliot, her and Alex, then she picked it up again, thought carefully, and placed it in the top drawer. She wasn't ready to look at Ginny every day. Not yet. The wound was still too fresh.

As she closed the desk drawer, Cragen hollered from his office doorway, "Benson, Stabler, get down to the M.E.'s office, she's got something for us."

Grabbing their coats, the two detectives complied. As they headed downtown in a still chilly sedan, Elliot glanced over at his partner who still seemed slightly distracted by the visitor from earlier. He was eager to get her to share, to satisfy his own curiosity as much as to keep his partner from the dangerous self-analysis spiral he knew she was close to. "So what did our favorite FBI agent bring to you today?"

She stiffened immediately, then consciously forced herself to relax one muscle at a time. "Just some information, some follow-up information on people that I lost, I left, in Oregon." Inwardly she cringed at her slip of words, praying silently that Elliot didn't pick up on it.

He had. He didn't know what she had meant, but he doubted it was a simple linguistic error. "Errahgh," he made a sound that was distinctly Elliot and distinctly Queens and Olivia smiled to herself, she had missed that incomprehensible sound. "What kind of information?" he dug a little deeper, hoping this wouldn't backfire.

"Uh," she started, then stopped. Elliot glanced over at her through the corner of his eye. She didn't look mad, that was a start. She looked like she was deciding what to say. "Just letting me know what had happened to some of the people I had gotten to know there, I learned to like a few of them." She paused, "but only the good ones, Scouts honor," she said with a smile.

He smiled back at her. That was a start. "What happened to them?" he asked. In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Um, well, this was about one person in particular, a woman I got to know. She died." Olivia said bluntly. She tugged at her seatbelt and looked out the window, effectively ending any sort of follow-up Elliot had wanted to ask.

A few seconds later they pulled up outside the M.E.s office. Olivia still wasn't making eye contact as she got out of the car. "Olivia," Elliot said, forcing her back to the present, "I'm sorry about your friend." He looked at her in the eye, her brown eyes looked back at him, with sadness, but dry, without tears.

"Thanks," she said simply, and walked into the building.


	12. Chapter 12

Return and Continue On: Chapter 12

Heading out of the M.E.'s office about an hour later, Elliot and Olivia headed towards the station. Elliot kept trying to bring up things to talk about, but Olivia quietly kept shutting him down. She didn't want to chat, or talk, or shoot the shit, she just wanted to sit and brood. Elliot looked at her from the driver's seat and tried again to pull her out of her funk. Offering to grab some some takeout for dinner on the way back, Olivia shoot her head and said she wasn't very hungry. She was silent the rest of the way home; Elliot had given up. Around 7pm, the other detectives decided it was time for some dinner, knowing it was going to be a bit of a late night. Olivia shook her head when they asked her what she wanted as she dialed Shawn to tell him she had to reschedule dinner. Their schedules had both been nightmarish lately, they hadn't both been home at a decent hour in over two weeks. It was getting hard to keep their relationship progressing, rather than settle into stagnation of short nights and cramped weekends. Elliot decided to override her decision and told Fin to order her a Chicken with Black Bean Sauce. Focused on the files on her desk, Olivia didn't even notice Elliot's words. Walking over to Fin to hand him some cash for the delivery guy, Fin spoke up "What's with Benson? She's been weird all day."

"Yeah," Elliot replied, rubbing his face with his hands. "Something about Agent Porter's visit set her off. She won't tell me why."

"Hmm," Fin said with a combination smirk and grimace. He looked over at Olivia with a crease in his forehead. He hadn't seen her this moody in a long time, not since last fall when all that shit had gone down with her brother.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled themselves away from the white board to dig into the Chinese food. Olivia wandered back to her desk and started looking back through the files. There was something about this case she couldn't put her finger on. Walking over to her desk with a carton of food, he shoved the food and a pair of chopsticks under her nose and said "Eat."

Pulling her eyes away from the files, she looked up at him. He chuckled and said "Eli gives me that look when he doesn't want to eat peas. It won't work, I'm immune."

Glaring at his as she tried not to smile, she took the food and ate some of it absent-mindedly. Three hours later, they all called it a night. They had gone around and around trying to figure out what was missing and they still hadn't gotten it. They agreed to re-interview some of the witnesses the next morning and headed home for the night. "Wanna ride?" Elliot asked as Olivia grabbed her coat.

"Sure, that'd be great."

She still wasn't big on talking on the way home, and Elliot didn't want to push her. He knew his partner and thought she might want some time to process things after the visit from Agent Porter that afternoon. Something had shaken her up. He wondered what had been in the packet. If Porter had intentionally done something to hurt her...He shook his head at that thought. She knew how to defend herself from that guy, he was confident.

Pulling up in front of her building, he glanced up out of habit. Noticing her lights were on, he commented "Looks like someone's already home."

She made a little face, "Yeah, he told me he might come over. I was hoping he changed his mind."

"Trouble in paradise?" Elliot asked, trying to make light of it.

She sighed. "I just don't want to be around people tonight and now..." she gestured upstairs to the light shining in the window. She moved to get out of the car.

"Olivia, you okay?" Elliot asked, knowing that he wouldn't get a real answer, but still feeling the need to ask, to at least let her know that he cared, he noticed.

She sighed again. "Yeah, El, I'm fine," she said as she slammed the car door and hurried into her building through the drizzle.

She slowly climbed the stairs to her apartment, stopping on the last landing before her apartment and leaning her back against the wall. She let her head fall back against the wall. She was not in the mood for company, she wanted to sit and brood and think about things. She'd thought she'd gotten over all of that shit with Oregon, only to have it brought up again. As happy as she was to have gotten the information she did earlier that day, she was silently cursing Dean Porter as well. He had to go an interrupt what semblance of a life she managed to put back together. Now she couldn't get her memories out of her mind. She thought about the man waiting for her upstairs. Doubts assailed her yet again. She couldn't be with someone who didn't understand what she'd been through, didn't understand her past. She'd told him a lot of things that she hadn't share with many people, but she knew that knowing something and really understanding another person's perspective were two very different things. This was not going to work. Her dark mood was like a think blanket over their relationship, he should get out before she ruined him as well, she thought. No sense in both of them getting dragged down. She sighed again and hit her head softly against the wall of the stairwell, her eyes were dry, but felt heavy, she almost willed the tears to come as a release. Even tears would be preferable to the horrible feeling in her chest.

She knew she couldn't stay in the hallway forever, although the yellow light and faded paint surely looked more favorable than going upstairs tonight. She slowly trudged up the steps, fumbling for her keys. Taking a deep breath and preparing herself to have to talk with another human being, she swung open the door. She trudged in and dumped her things on the counter. She saw Shawn come out of the bathroom, the tv was playing an old movie. His face brightened when he saw her.

"Hey, finally home! How was work?" he asked eagerly, settling back down on the sofa. "I made some pasta, I saved some for you in the kitchen," he said, not noticing the black look on her face.

"Thanks," she said blandly, "I think you use my kitchen more than I do." Her tone was even and without emotion. She didn't say anything else or make eye contact as she plodded into the bedroom. She stripped off her shirt leaving only a camisole and tossed her shoes into the corner. In the bathroom, she leaned on her elbows in front of the sink and stared into the mirror as her fingers massaged her temples. Without noticing her left hand felt her temple where she still had a barely noticeable scar.

Shawn found her like that 5 minutes later, wandering in to the bedroom to find out what had happened to her. "Olivia? What's going on? Are you okay?"

She stood up immediately, pulling herself together. 'Damn him,' she thought, 'why won't he just leave me alone.'

"Yeah, sorry, I'm fine, Shawn, just a long day. I think I just need some time by myself."

He looked at her with concern in his eyes, a look that Olivia didn't see and wouldn't have interpreted properly anyway. She was convinced of her unworthiness and didn't want anyone else around to see it. She knew she'd snap out of it tomorrow, but now she needed peace.

"What happened?" he asked again, reaching for her, trying to pull her close into a hug.

"Nothing *happened*." She spat out angrily, "Nothing has to happen for me to feel this way, I just do! Just go, Shawn, I want to be alone." She tried to pull herself away from him but he held her close still. She squirmed in his arms, feeling dirty. Pulling away stronger she broke from him and practically shouted, "Just leave me alone."

A little surprised at her vehemence, Shawn took a step backwards, back into the bedroom. "Look, Olivia, what's wrong?" he asked again, giving her some space.

Rubbing her face in her hands and then folding her arms across her chest, "Nothing is wrong, Shawn. I just don't want to talk"

He could see the tension in her shoulders, could see the muscles roped under her skin moving as she fidgeted. "Clearly something is wrong. You can't just bite my head off for no reason, can't just sulk in the bathroom and yell if nothing is wrong."

"Why not, Shawn?" she spat back. "It's my apartment. If I want to be by myself here to sulk than I should be able to. I didn't ask you to come here today and now I'm asking you to leave me alone. I don't see what the problem is, it's pretty simple."

"You..." he shook his head. "YOU, Olivia, are not simple. If you share what's going on, it'll probably help. Grief and problems shrink as you share them, you know. Talking to me about it is probably a better solution that just tossing me out to the curb."

"No, it's not. You don't even know..." her voice trailed off.

"Well, I would if you would share with me! You can't just keep shutting everyone out. We all have things happen that are hard, but that's the point of having friends...and boyfriends..." He looked at her with a little smile, trying to get her face to crack into a smile, or SOMETHING other than the painful, tragic look she had on her face now.

"I'm not shutting you out! You know practically everything that's happened to me. You know about my mother, my childhood, my job, Oregon. Everything except... You know practically everything. I'm not shutting you out Shawn, I just want to be by myself."

He wondered what she was keeping back, but now was not the time. "Your past has nothing to do with this, us, right now. THIS..." he gestured between the two of them, "THIS is not about your past, this is about you not wanting to take the risk of letting that mask down with anyone. We've talked about what we want to get out of life, and let me tell you, keeping up that wall is not going to get you anywhere."

"No," she was seething, "THIS.." she repeated, "Is not about that. THIS is about me wanting you to leave me alone. Trust me, you'll thank me. You don't want any part of this..." she gestured towards herself, her now tearstained face, herself still almost huddled in the bathroom doorway."

Shawn was seething back at her, 'Why couldn't she see what she was doing to him? Keeping him locked out, keeping her distance. He knew she was hurting and her unwillingness to accept his reassurance made him feel like a complete failure. "No, see, that's the thing. I DO want every part of that but you aren't willing to let me in. You won't let me help you, won't LET me be your friend. I can't keep failing at this, Olivia. You need to decide what you want and let me know," he wasn't yelling but she could hear the anger in his voice. He spun on his heel and stomped out of the bedroom. She heard his disappearing footsteps and heard the front door slam, a little louder than was necessary.

Olivia hugged her arms a little tighter around her and sunk to the floor. The tears were still running down her face, she felt her chest open up a bit as she let out an involuntary sob. She had just alienated the one person she thought understood her. She had thought he would understand her wanting to be by herself. He'd admitted he was a bit of a loner too sometimes, especially when he was going through a rough time. She couldn't fathom why he had gotten so mad at her. Her breath shaky now, but no longer sobbing, she wiped her eyes and pulled herself up off of the floor. Not knowing what to do with herself now that she was finally alone, she padded in her bare feet into the kitchen. She saw her bag sitting on the counter, inside she could see part of the photo that Dean Porter had brought by the stationhouse today. Pulling it out, she looked at it again. She remembered being absolutely miserable in Oregon, but in the photo she had looked almost happy. She was really thin, it must've been taken shortly before she'd left, and her face looked tight and drawn, but she was smiling. She had been so glad for Ginny's friendship. 'Damn those ignorant rural police' she thought for the thousandth time. She noticed the bowl of pasta covered with a paper towel sitting on the counter next to the sink. It was the dinner Shawn had left for her. She felt a pang of guilt for her behavior. She was starting to come around. All she'd needed was a few minutes to decompress and a good cry (though she felt she could've gone without the sob session if she'd just had a little time).

Looking at the bowl of pasta with sausage and veggies, she sighed and dumped it into a tupperware for later. As she was doing so, she thought about what Shawn had said. 'He couldn't keep failing,' he had said. Her forehead crinkled as she thought about that. He was taking her refusal to talk to him like it was because of him, as if she didn't trust him with her feelings. Now she felt really bad, she hadn't meant that at all. She'd spent her whole life learning to deal with things on her own. She wasn't a Sharer, and probably wasn't going to become one anytime soon, but the thought that her unwillingness to share made OTHERS feel bad threw her for a loop. In the classic situation of someone who feels unloved and unworthy, she hadn't considered her own actions important enough to actually impact another person.

Olivia sighed as she slid the leftover pasta into the fridge, noting the unopened bottle of white wine and slice of cake he must've picked up from the bakery down the block. She looked towards the ceiling as she felt tears prick her eyes again. Now she was going to cry because she'd been such a jerk. She really was a mess. She needed to apologize but inside, she still felt that it was really better for him to just bugger off and leave her to her misery. It'd be better off in the long run.

She took the photo and set it gently on the bar as she walked back to the bedroom. She showered and changed. Climbing into bed with wet hair she picked up her cell phone and dialed Shawn. She realized it was going to go to voicemail before she'd had a chance to think through what to say. Fumbling, she said "Hey, Shawn, I... I need to apologize for earlier. I think I get it, I'm sorry. Um, give me a call back I guess." She hung up softly and looked down. She set the phone on the bedside table and turned to try and get some sleep.

She slept restlessly, with fevered dreams. Tangled in the sheets, she saw herself and Elliot chasing after a perp that was continually getting away from them, they chased him into a warehouse where they were on a high floor when suddenly he ran off the edge of the floor, Elliot followed and fell into the dark she lunged forward to grab him and missed, hearing him yell as he fell, then suddenly he was yelling at her. They were in the cribs at the station and he was growing taller and taller as he got louder and louder, she felt crowded and became fearful of him. She pushed him back and he fell to the floor. The cribs changed into the seedy street in Queens where he'd been shot while undercover with the smuggling ring. She saw him shot and suddenly knew he was dead, then he turned into Ginny. She sat cradling Ginny's body in the woods in Oregon, then was crouching next to the toilet vomiting her guts out in the trailer in Oregon while Ginny patted her shoulder. 'I thought you were dead?' she said to her. 'Oh, I'm not the one that's dead,' gesturing to Olivia and Olivia knew she meant the baby, the baby she didn't know she wanted. Then Shawn was there, looking down at the same thing Olivia was, knowing it was the lost baby. 'Well, it's probably better off,' he said as Olivia felt her heart break into a hundred pieces. She finally woke, panting and flushed and tried to get out of bed only to be tangled in the sheets. She stumbled into the bathroom and splashed water onto her face, chest still heaving up and down.

Her head was pounding and her throat scratchy. 'Great,' she thought, 'the last thing I need right now is to get sick.' She washed her face and turned back to bed, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep before the morning.

She tossed and turned, finally turning her pillow over to find the cool side and fell back into a restless, but blissfully dreamless sleep.

Olivia woke up the next morning to her alarm blaring. She glared at the numbers next to her bed. 7:15am. She hated the sound of that alarm. She usually woke up before it had a chance to go off, but she must have been really tired last night. Slapping the alarm clock, she sat on the side of the bed as she began to remember why she felt so crummy. She cleared her throat and found it a little scratchy and she had a mild headache, but not too worse for wear, she thought. Glancing at her phone again, she gave a slight frown as she remembered her unanswered call last night. She quickly showered and readied for work, grabbing some orange juice from the fridge, she noticed the chocolate cake again. Thinking seriously about eating the cake for breakfast, she heard a knock at her door.

Looking into the peephole, she saw her partner standing nonchalantly in her hallway. Opening the door for him, she said "Elliot" in a warning tone, letting him know she was suspicious of him for showing up on her doorstep unexpected about 2 minutes before she left for work.

"Ah, I was in the neighborhood, thought you might want a ride to work," he said, knowing it was absolutely unbelievable.

"Uh huh," she smirked, "Sure you were. Last time you said that when you showed up on my doorstep, there was a crazy stalker out to get me. Makes me nervous. What're you really doing here?"

"Ah, just wanted to make sure you were okay." He glanced around the apartment, clearly looking for something. "Managed to get your alone time afterall, huh?" he said, referring to the lack of another specific person in her apartment.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to talk about that."

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"I picked a fight, we screamed at each other for a few minutes and then he stormed out." She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Ah, well, I'm sure you'll work it out. Porter's visit put you in quite a funk yesterday." He said this with hesitation, not knowing whether her response would be to share with him or to bite his head off.

She tilted her head and raised one eyebrow, 'damn him for being so perceptive. The Elliot of 5 years ago would never have picked up on that.'

She replied "Yeah, I know. Sorry about that, there are still some things...Anyway, I'm fine now. Thanks for checking up on me." She downed the last of her juice, grabbed her bag and turned for the door. She turned back for him only to find him studying the photo she'd left on the counter.

"Damn your nosy self, Elliot Stabler," she said under her breath. "Let's go, Elliot."

He picked up the photo, holding it carefully, as if he knew how important it was to her. "Liv, what's this from? Who's this?"

"Let's go, El."

"You look happy, Liv." He said as he set it down, taking a second look. "It's from Oregon, right? God, I'd forgotten how skinny you were. You had us all worried there after you got back."

He turned and left the apartment first, letting her lock the door behind them. "What do you mean you were all worried? I was fine," she said defensively as they walked down the stairs.

"Fine?" he said, incredulous. "You were FINE? Liv, you showed up without a word, all skin and bones with a gigantic shiner and then you didn't talk to anyone for weeks. Even Dani Beck was worried and she didn't even know you, she'd thought you'd been roughed up by a boyfriend at first, she said you were all skittish and jumpy."

She made a face at him. "Yeah, well, things were tough there, but I'm fine, got over it."

"Over it, huh? Is that why you freaked out yesterday when Porter showed up?"

"I did not freak out, Elliot." She sighed. Remembering Shawn's words yesterday, she took his criticism to heart and opened her mouth. "Porter's visit just reminded me of...some things." She paused, figuring out what to say as they climbed into his car. "My friend, she...when the police raided the camp, we both got hit in the head. She died of a subdural hematoma, never work up after. I..." she stopped and turned to look out the window.

"I'm sorry, Liv, again." Elliot said, wondering how this woman got under his partner's skin after just a few short weeks.

She shook her head, "It wasn't just that, El. She...I...My job there was to infiltrate them, but she became my friend, she helped me...She wasn't who they were after, she was an innocent in the wrong place at the wrong time and I let her get wacked in the head by a hothead, ill-trained 20-year-old cop with a nightstick. I should've been able to...I should've...Protect and Serve, My Ass," she said disparagingly. She stopped again and turned away from him.

Elliot took advantage of the red light to look over to her, noticing the grief still on her face. He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Olivia, I'm sure that the shrink you saw told you this a hundred times, but you cannot blame yourself for that, not in that situation."

"In that situation..." she repeated, nodding. Inwardly, she thought 'You have no idea of that true situation...That situation only made it worse.' She thought again about Ginny patting her on the back as she puked, the reason she was in her trailer that night in the first place.

Considering that subject closed for now, Elliot gave her shoulder another quick squeeze.

The morning moved quickly, there was a line of witnesses waiting to be interviews. At around 930 she'd gotten a text from Shawn reading "Me too. Call you later."

She felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. Noticing the slight smile on her face, Elliot leaned towards her as he walked away and whispered "Looks like someone got an apology…" She turned to swat him with the files in her hand but he jumped away.

Shawn had called her around 10:30 and she'd been able to run up the cribs to talk with him for a quick minute. They'd smoothed things over for the most part, but she had a feeling they were going to have that same conversation another few times at least. She thanked him for the cake and warned him she almost ate it for breakfast. He chuckled and told her to go ahead, he'd eaten his piece before dinner anyway.

In the afternoon they got called on a new case, the Captain shoved it toward Elliot and Olivia and told them to get to the hospital before their victim left AMA. They scurried out the door, glad for an excuse to get back on the street.

Their victim was a woman in her 30s, had been raped and beaten. She wasn't saying by who, but the doctor had told them she was pretty convinced it was a husband or boyfriend. The ER doc gave them the run down, the woman had refused a rape kit, the only reason she had come in at all was because she was pregnant and was worried that something was wrong.

That information made the whole case a little more than your standard fare. They had done an ultrasound and everything looked fine, but it was too early in the pregnancy to say definitively and given her strict rules for when to come back. The doctor looked at them sympathetically. "Rough road ahead for that girl."

Elliot looked down at the paperwork in his hands. "For them all, Doc," he said as they headed towards Rachel's apartment. They knocked on the door of the brownstone and didn't get an answer. They were trying a second time when a woman walked up and asked if she could help them.

"Detectives Stabler, Benson," Elliot said. "We're looking for a Rachel Emerson."

"Yeah, that's me. I told the doctor I didn't want to file a report, but she said she'd already called."

"It's not too late, you can still file and if you haven't showered, we can still collect the evidence we need," Olivia said, as Rachel unlocked the door. She looked at the two detectives somewhat suspiciously, but she held the door for them and led them into her living room.

They got the information they needed and Olivia went back to the hospital with her to collect the rape kit while Elliot took a cab back to the station. Putting the pieces together later that night, they put out a warrant for Rachel's boyfriend. She swore he hadn't known about the pregnancy, that it hadn't been a motive, that she didn't know what had set him off. It turned out to be a pretty cut and dry case, or at least it would be when they found their perp, who had fallen off the radar.

The next morning, still finishing up the witness reports from their previous case, Cragen called over and told them that the State Troopers had collared their guy upstate and that he was on his way back to Manhattan. The two detectives grabbed their coats as they went to Rachel's to tell her the news.

The woman that answered the door was a mess. She was wearing pajamas, had messy hair and red, teary eyes, she looked a little pale and absolutely miserable.

"Rachel, what happened?" Olivia asked concernedly, as the woman let them inside.

"I...I...I started bleeding," she stuttered out. "I went to the doctor and they said they couldn't tell what was going to happen, but there was nothing they could do either way, I just had to wait and see what happens." Tears squeezed out her eyes, despite her visible efforts to stop them.

They told her about the arrest and she just nodded, telling them to see themselves out. As they walked towards the front door, Olivia looked back at the woman, huddled, by herself on the sofa. Her heart hurt more than a little; she knew exactly what this girl was feeling. As Elliot opened the door, she turned back, strode across the room and knelt down next to the couch. She spoke softly to the woman, who teared up again. After a minute she wiped her eyes and nodded, squeezing Olivia's hand in thanks. Olivia stood and took a minute to compose her own self before turning back to her partner, whose eyes she could feel burning into her back. 'Ignore it, Ignore it, Ignore it," she willed of her partner. She was feeling a little lightheaded and nauseous herself, hearing some of what Rachel had told her, told her what was going on in her mind. The self-destructive thoughts were practically identical to all the things she herself had felt only a few months prior. She closed her eyes for a minute as she reached the bottom of the stoop. She needed to clear her mind. Suddenly, she was back in Oregon, chilled to the bone, puking in a tiny bathroom with only a curtain for privacy. She opened her eyes and promptly vomited her lunch into the gutter next to their sedan.

Coming back around to the passenger side when he'd heard his partner lose her lunch, he found her bent at the waist, hands on her knees, still a little out of breath at the effort. She heaved one last time, eyes squeezed shut. Taking one more deep breath, she spat, wiped her eyes and stood up, right into the concerned eyes of her partner.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" he asked her.

She rolled her eyes at him as she reached in her bag for a bottle of water. "Yeah, I'm fine, Elliot."

"I haven't seen you lose your lunch over a case in years." He raised an eyebrow at her, implying he thought something was off.

"Yeah, well..."

Suddenly he had a thought, a shocking, out of the blue thought. Inwardly he shrugged, 'it's possible,' he thought. "Olivia?" he questioned, "Are you -"

"Oh My God, Elliot! I am NOT PREGNANT. What the hell is wrong with you?" Olivia scolded him.

He grinned, a little sheepishly, "Well," he replied, "You're the one puking in the middle of the street."

She glared at him as she said "I swear, if you tell the guys about this I'll tell them all you cried like a baby at Eli's baptism." He glared back at her making a face, letting her know that she had won.

He looked over at her again as he pulled away from the curb, she still didn't look great, a little green still, head resting against the glass.


	13. Chapter 13

_She glared at him as she said "I swear, if you tell the guys about this I'll tell them all you cried like a baby at Eli's baptism." He glared back at her making a face, letting her know that she had won. _

_He looked over at her again as he pulled away from the curb, she still didn't look great, a little green still, head resting against the glass. _

Return and Continue On: Chapter 13

He drove slowly back towards the precinct, more mindful of his partner than normal. He glanced at her again out of the corner of his eye. Her head lay tilted on the glass, her face still pale. She sat up as he slowed for a red light and began reaching around the seat, digging for something in the seatback pocket. She sighed as she felt what she was looking for and pulled a bottle of water into the front seat.

"Pull over, El," she said without preamble.

"What? Why?" he asked, a little irritated at her demanding voice. The irritation covered his concern.

"Because I said to. Take a right here, stop at the curb," she told him, edge in her voice. It was now or never she thought. He pulled to a stop around the corner.

Olivia took a swig of the water, opened her door, swished and spit the water into the gutter. She took a real drink and swallow as she closed her door.

"Olivia." His voice rose at the end of her name, holding a little concern and a little warning.

She had her eyes closed. He could see the wrinkle in her forehead that she got whenever she was going to say something she was nervous about.

"I didn't throw up because of the case El, I threw up because I had a miscarriage. It kind of rubbed some salt into a fresh wound." She looked at him as she said it and then immediately looked away, she didn't want to have his reaction seared into her brain.

He didn't move. His eyebrows were stuck in the middle of his forehead and his mouth fell open in what he knew was a stupid looking position.

"What? Oh my god. Liv." He looked at her concernedly. "When?" Before she had a chance to reply he said "Shawn?"

She hadn't even thought he would go down that road.

"Shawn? What? No! It was awhile ago."

"When?"

She swallowed again before she answered. "Oregon."

"Oregon! That was months ago."

"Olivia! Who was…. Porter?" He looked at her incredulously.

"Oh my god, Elliot. Stop hypothesizing with all the guys I slept with. First Huang, now you…" she muttered half under her breath.

"Huang? You told Huang?"

She looked down, "Yeah, they made me talk to someone after…after I got back. I told him. I had to."

"Olivia, what happened?"

"I didn't know, Elliot, I swear. I wouldn't have gone if I had known, wouldn't have put that at risk. By the time I found out, it was already too late." He could see that she was reliving it. He'd seen his partner vulnerable before, seen her go through some horrible things, but he had never quite seen the look on her face before. "God, El, I was so sick. I could barely move. I was by myself, there was no heat." She gave an involuntary shiver. "I puked my guts out for 5 hours before she found me. I've been shot and stabbed and had my lights punched out, been kicked in the face, been drugged, but nothing could even compare to that. If she hadn't been there…" She shook her head. She honestly had no idea what she would have done if Ginny hadn't shown up. She shook her head again and looked down at her hands, shamed by her weakness.

"If who hadn't been there, Olivia?" Elliot asked her quietly.

"Ginny. It's why she was in my trailer that night Elliot. If not for me, she wouldn't have been there, wouldn't have gotten hit. One stupid night, one stupid indiscretion with a graphic designer before I ran off with the FBI and got someone killed." She spoke disparagingly of herself and Elliot didn't like it.

"Hey, don't think like that." He reached over and squeezed her leg. "No wonder you were such a mess when you got back from Oregon. I wish you had told me."

She snorted at him, which helped control the tears that were threatening. "I was not a mess."

He tilted his head at her, "No, Liv, you were a hot mess. I don't blame you one bit, it would take most people weeks to get over what you went through. You did it in just a few days."

She snorted again. "A few days, Elliot? I'm still getting over it." She leaned forward and lifted her chin, gesturing towards the street. "Drive."

He didn't move, didn't take his eyes off of her. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine….I'm getting there."

He shoved the car into drive and pulled slowly away from the curb. He looked sideways at her. "Does Shawn know?"

Her eyebrows raised, a look of disbelief mixed with sarcasm ran across her face. "No," she said simply.

"You should tell him."

"Why? He doesn't need to hear all that," she said.

"Probably not, but if he's half the guy you deserve he will want you to tell him so he can help you."

"I don't need his help," she said defensively.

"No, of course you don't." She didn't know if he was patronizing her, or agreeing with her. He went on "but a lot of things are easier if you share them."

She didn't reply, just looked out the window at the passing street.

"I'm sorry, Olivia."

She looked over at him and squeezed her lips together. "Me too."

It was quiet for a minute or so as they continued uptown in traffic. He finally broke the silence. "So who did Huang think you slept with?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and smirked. "You don't want to know." She raised one eyebrow.

"ME!" The shock was evident in his voice; he slammed on the breaks as he almost swerved into the other lane. "Oh my god! What is wrong with people."

Olivia grabbed the door handle "Watch it, Stabler!" she hollered.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

A few weeks later, the puking incident almost forgotten between them, Olivia, Munch and Elliot were knee deep in boxes of papers. They were trying to sort through the financials of their latest case and were getting nowhere.

"Hey, so this guy Tyrell has a recurrent payment made to someone or something called EHM, $215 a month. That mean anything to you?" Elliot asked vaguely to the room.

"Mmm, don't think so," Munch replied. Olivia just shook her head, not looking up from the stack of receipts.

Olivia spoke up "Hey, check this out. It's a tax form, filed 4 years ago, Tyrell claimed a deduction for some property he bought in New Jersey. And he claimed a deduction that year and each of" (she shuffled through the papers) "the next four years for a property management firm called EHM."

Munch said "So, it's a tax shelter? It's an investment? What's he got on that land?"

Elliot rubbed his face. "Answers probably somewhere in that stack," he gestured towards the 5 file boxes still stacked against the wall.

"This is making my head hurt. I'm grabbing a burger. You guys want?" Munch tossed the stack of papers down.

"Yeah, and a soda. Thanks," Olivia replied, still not looking up.

"Stabler? You in?" Munch asked.

"Yeah, please," Elliot replied.

Munch hadn't left the room, still standing at the door expectantly. Elliot sighed and pulled out his wallet, shoving a twenty at Munch with a smirk. "Hey," Munch replied, "I can't buy you all lunch every day."

Olivia smirked at him. "Hang on a sec before you go. So what are we looking for exactly? This guy's playpen? A crime scene before he drops the victim somewhere in the city? It's kind of far away…" She sat down at the computer and did a web search for the address and the company. Poking and clicking away, a few seconds later she said "It looks like EHM is a front, doesn't exist any where on the internet. That doesn't happen in this day and age. Okay, here we go. Looks like the property is mostly undeveloped, only one building. Looks like a warehouse of some sort."

Munch and Elliot were staring at her with vacant faces. "What? Everything's on satellite these days. Even Jersey."

Elliot jumped in, "Maybe there's something interesting in that warehouse. Maybe we need to investigate his suspicious tax shelters…"

He stood and pushed back his chair, reaching for his coat as Olivia did the same. Passing John still standing in the doorway, he grabbed the $20 bill out of his hand. "We'll grab a sandwich for the road."

The drive took longer than they anticipated, getting stuck on some back roads and having to back track after missing the address the first time. Finally finding the address, they found no gate, no fence, just an old building with no unlocked doors and windows 20 feet up. "This is turning out to be a total bust of a field trip."

"I dunno, maybe not." Elliot replied. "Someone's coming." She followed his gaze to where a green pick-up was heading up the driveway.

They stepped out into the driveway to make sure they didn't take anyone by surprise. The truck pulled up and stopped as it neared the building and a middle aged Latino man climbed out.

The detectives showed there badges and asked him if he was the property manager. He was as helpful as possible in his accented English as he told them he was hired by the property management company. He came by once a week to check up on the building, cut down the weeds, etc. He didn't have a key and never went inside, and he didn't know if the property management had a key. He said he never saw anyone there, but never spent more than 15 minutes there. He'd never seen anyone come or go, though onetime he thought he saw a white van parked in the long driveway. They thanked him for his help and walked back down the road towards their sedan.

"Still mostly a total bust…" Olivia said bitterly. "And now we're stuck in Northern New Jersey trying to get into the city at rush hour…"

"Ah, come on, Liv, it's not so bad." He rolled down his window and stuck his elbow out as they pulled out onto the road. "Enjoy the drive through the country."

"Hey, I was raised in Manhattan and not even I consider NEW JERSEY the COUNTRY. Just highways and traffic between me and my island."

"Ah, such a spoil sport. We'll take the northern route – avoid the GW at 5pm."

"Don't try and make this sound fun. You're ruining my pity party." Olivia glared and him and settled down into the seat, but she did roll down her window and appreciate the breeze.

She wouldn't have admitted it to Elliot, but Olivia was almost enjoying the drive, the warm sun, the breeze and the tree lined highway weren't something you got in Manhattan. Unconsciously watching the signs for the multitudes of towns they were passing, something struck her as familiar and she straightened up in her seat. She waited for the next sign. There is was again Woodlake 5 miles ahead. She pulled out her phone and started thumbing though old emails. Not finding what she was looking for, she searched her bag, finally finding a piece of paper in her wallet with an address on it.

"Lose something?" Elliot asked, watching his partner fumbling frantically.

"No…" she said slowly. "Hey, Elliot, I need a favor."

"Sure. What do you need?"

She bit the corner of her lip. "I need you to trust me. It won't take more than 15, 20 minutes max."

"Liv?..." he said warningly.

"Trust me, Elliot? Please? Just take this next exit. This one, here…" She pointed at the exit quickly coming up.

He sighed and turned the car toward the exit. She was punching numbers into her phone frantically. "Okay, take a right."

"Olivia, where are we going?"

"Left here."

"Olivia…."

"Now turn right here." He turned the car onto a sleepy street with big trees, she was leaning almost out the window looking for an address. Finally finding it, she said "Pull over here."

He pulled the car to the curb and she unbuckled her belt. He put a hand on her arm. "Olivia, what in hell are we doing?"

"Just wait here, Elliot. I'll be right back." She went to get out of the car.

He got out as well and caught up to her on the sidewalk. Pulling her to a stop he said, "Come on, Liv. I trusted you, now you trust me. Who lives here?" He gestured to the small bungalow with some shabby flowers in the front yard.

"Wait in the car, El, you don't need to come with me."

"No way, you drag me on a wild goose chase through small town New Jersey and you want me to wait in the car?" Elliot argued back.

Knowing that Elliot Stabler was way to stubborn to give him when she gave him that look, she said "Fine. You can come, but don't say ANYTHING."

"Okay, fine. But who are we visiting?" he asked.

"Angela Marsden."

"Who?….Angela Marsden?" he squinted one eyebrow. "Marsden? Simon Marsden's mother?"

"You can come, you stand there and you don't say a word, understand?" she glared back at him. He nodded his acknowledgement and followed her up the steps onto the small porch.

A middle-aged black woman answered their knock. "Can I help you?"

"Hi. I'm looking for Angela, is she here?" Olivia asked.

The older woman gave her the once over. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Um, my name is Olivia. I just wanted to ask her some questions…" Olivia stumbled a little bit. She didn't want to come here as a cop, but she didn't really have a good reason to talk her way inside. Something about her must have made the woman trust her, because she opened the door and allowed them to enter.

"You can ask all you want, but you probably won't get many answers." She gestured to the living room where an old woman sat on the couch, a blanket covering her lap. She was looking at a crossword puzzle and had a pencil, but the puzzle was blank. "She has her lucid moments, but they are far and few between. Alzheimer's. Early onset." The woman shook her head. "Poor thing."

She stepped into the room. "Angie, you have some visitors."

The woman looked up. "Visitors? How lovely! Hazel, will you get us some tea? Can't have visitors without tea in the afternoon. Coffee in the morning, but tea in the afternoon." She set her puzzle down on her lap. "Now, do I know you?"

"No, Mrs. Marsden, you don't." Olivia answered.

"Well, that's good. Never can tell these days…." She looked behind Olivia as if she just noticed Elliot.

"Simon! What are you doing here? You were just here yesterday? Two visits in two days! What a lucky mother…" She turned to Olivia. "He's a good boy, my Simon."

"Ah.." At a loss for words, not sure if she should disabuse the woman of her mistake or not, she bit the corner of her lip again.

"Oh, don't be nervous, honey." She patted Olivia on her knee.

"I'm not, I mean…How did you know I was nervous."

Angela smiled at her. "You were biting your lip, just the corner. It's a nervous habit….don't worry, you can train yourself out of it if you try. Now, you look familiar to me…." She looked up at Elliot again. "Simon, doesn't she look familiar? Who does she look like?"

Unknowingly, Olivia was chewing on her lip again. Angela clapped her hands. "Annette! That's it! You look just like Annette. Wait, ARE you Annette? No…can't be. Annette was old… Simon! Grab me the photo album from the cabinet. The red one." Elliot stood there, true to his word, he hadn't said anything since they arrived.

"Go on, do as I say, Simon. The red one on the top shelf." Hazel heard the end of the conversation and as she set down the teapot and cups said "I'll get it Angie, what do you need?"

"The photo album, red one, top shelf of the cabinet in the living room. This lady looks just like Annette and I want to show her."

"Angela, I wanted to ask you about your husband." Olivia spoke, she wanted to make the most of her time here.

"Frankie? What do you want to know about Frankie. He was a good man, my Frankie."

"No, not Frank. Your first husband. Joseph." Olivia pressured.

"Oh, Joey…he's been gone for a long time. A real long time. Since Simon was a little boy. Do you even remember him, Simon? Simon, you are looking old. How old are you now? Didn't you just turn 33?"

Olivia heard Elliot clearing his throat awkwardly behind her.

"Tell me about Joseph, Angie." Olivia asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

"Ah, Joe. He was all-right. He gave me my Simon, but we were so young, we practically had to grow up together…." She interrupted herself when Hazel came back in with the photo album.

"What's this, Hazel? I haven't looked at this old book in years."

"The book, Angie, you wanted to look up a photo." Hazel poured the tea after handing Angela the book. The older woman was flipping through the pages with a bland look on her face.

"Who ARE all these people? I don't recognize them." She looked up again at Olivia. "Ah, Annette, right, I was going to show you the photo I like of you. It's a great one." She flipped through the book until she found an old black and white photo taking up half the page.

She gently took the photo out of the book, gently taking each corner out of the tabs and handed it to her.

Olivia looked at the photo. It was old and showed a dark haired woman reclining while sitting on the front porch of a house. There was a toddler in the corner of the photo, but the focus was on the woman. Her dark hair was cut short and curled around her face. She had sunglasses pushed up onto her forehead and she was reading a paperback book and smiling to herself. Her long legs stretched out down the steps, wearing pants, but the style and the haircut led Olivia to believe the photo was taken sometime in the 30s or maybe 40s. She saw a penciled date in the corner. 1939.

Elliot looked over her shoulder, stunned. The woman in the photo was a dead-ringer for Olivia Benson.

Stunned, Olivia forgot about what she had wanted to know about Joseph Bartoletti. "Angie, who is this woman?"

"What woman?" she asked, sipping her tea and then adding another sugar cube.

"The woman in this photo? Annette?" Olivia asked, her voice tight.

"Oh, that? That's Annette. She was my Mother-In-Law. My Joe's mother. She looks like you, don't you think?"

Olivia's heart was in her throat. She was grasping at straws, inwardly begging this woman's lucidity to last just a little bit longer.

"Can you….can you tell me about her?" Olivia asked.

"Annette was…she was a firecracker, you know. Came from Italy, right off the boat, you know? Her and her husband, I think his name was Vincent, he died pretty quick and I got the feeling she ran the show anyway. I didn't meet her til I met Joe in the 60s, but she was always doing her own thing. She wore pants you know. Scandalous, apparently in the 30s! She was always reading these trashy novels, used to find them stashed all over the house when she came to visit. She ran a boarding house after her husband died and then worked in the school cafeteria to support them. She had a temper. She was quiet, but you didn't want to make her angry and she'd snap and yell." Angie shook her head. "She chewed her lip when she was nervous too." She closed the photo album and drank her tea.

"Now, did you really want to sell me magazines? I don't really want any magazines. I have plenty to read."

"No, Angie, we were here to ask about Joe." Olivia said, her heart sinking.

"Joe?" Angela asked. "Who's Joe?"

"Your husband, Joe?" Olivia asked again, her voice tight.

"No, my husband was Frank. Hazel! Hazel! I want to take a nap. Hazel!"

Olivia looked up at Hazel, a little panicked. "Okay, one second Angie, okay?" she patted her on the leg and walked Olivia and Elliot to the door, the photo still in her hand.

"Sorry, I think that's all you'll get out of her. Did you get what you needed?"

Olivia looked down at the photo. "No, not really, but it's okay…" She dug a business card out of her car and wrote her cell phone number on the back. "Is it okay if I borrow this photo? I promise I'll return it. I just want to make a copy. Here's my card, you can reach me anytime." She handed Hazel the card.

"You're a cop? You didn't tell me you were a cop," she said, slightly accusingly.

"I..I am, a detective, but I wasn't here as a cop, I was just here as me. But you know how to reach me if anything…I promise I'll return the photo in the mail within the week" Olivia said.

Hazel tilted her head. "I shouldn't, but go ahead. You look too much like that lady for it to be a coincidence….You'll be back. Have a good day now." She closed the door behind them.

Standing on the porch, Olivia was still looking down at the woman in the photo. She had her same eyes, her same mouth, the same wrinkle in her forehead. It was the first time she had ever seen any family resemblance in any photograph. Her mother's family were all blond and light-eyed. Italy. Her father's family had come from Italy.

"Olivia…" Elliot began.

"Don't say anything, Elliot. Please, just don't…" she said in a pained, quiet voice. She turned quickly and jogged down the stairs.

Climbing into the sedan, neither of them had said a word. As Elliot pulled the car back onto the road, the shadows a little longer than before, Olivia said "Thank you for humoring me, El. Sorry about all that, I shouldn't have dragged you into all that. Please don't say anything to the gu…"

"Hey, Liv, it's fine. I won't say anything. But, that's quite a picture, Liv…"

"Yeah…isn't it?" She smiled softly. She opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again. "I…I never saw a picture where I looked like ANYONE in my family. It was as if I fell out of left field. Now, I know where I came from, but I also known how much I inherited from him." Her voice almost broke.

"No, Liv, you know how much you inherited from her. Look at her, she's a knock-out. Sounds like she had quite the attitude too, raised a family on her own, not an easy thing 65 years ago." He looked at his partner, still staring at the photo.

"Always seeing the good side, El. Who knew you had such an optimistic side…"

"Only for you, Liv," he said as he pulled onto the highway and immediately hit the brakes, rush hour had come to them.


	15. Chapter 15

_"No, Liv, you know how much you inherited from her. Look at her, she's a knock-out. Sounds like she had quite the attitude too, raised a family on her own, not an easy thing 65 years ago." He looked at his partner, still staring at the photo. _

_"Always seeing the good side, El. Who knew you were such an optimist…"_

_"Only for you, Liv," he said as he pulled onto the highway and immediately hit the brakes, rush hour had come to them. _

Return and Continue On: Chapter 15

Just as they were pulling off the West Side Highway, Olivia got a call from the station telling them the warehouse wasn't what they were looking for after all.

"Yeah," Olivia snorted. "I could've told you that..."

"Hey,"Elliot said, "the trip wasn't a total waste." She knew he was referring to the photo, the things she had learned, but she didn't want to talk about it. The photo sat on her lap and at his reference she took it gently and slid it into her bag.

They spent the rest of the evening slugging through more paperwork, desperately trying to find a papertrail that would get them somewhere. Olivia had slipped the photo into the bottom drawer of her desk, where it sat, the reminder of it burning a hole in the back of her brain. At one point she looked up and realized that she was alone in the squadroom. Unable to control it any longer, she opened the drawer and pulled out the photo, staring at it intently, looking for SOMETHING, some sort of answer in the familiar, yet totally strange face. She was lost in thought, not even pretending to be getting some work done when she heard a voice behind her.

It felt like she jumped a foot in the air, Munch had surprised her that much. "Nice photo, Liv," she could hear the disdain in his voice. "Never figured you for the costume sort."

"That's not me, Munch," she replied bitterly, pissed with him for saying something and at herself for letting him see.

"Oh, come on," he replied, reaching for the photo as she quickly tried to slide the photo back into the drawer. The older man made a grab for it, obviously not noticing her distress at the interaction. He grabbed a corner of it and terrified that it would be damaged, she let go. She jumped to her feet, livid at her coworker, who had turned around to look at it.

"Give it back, John. NOW!" she demanded. He was staring at the photo a little bit surprised and barely registered the anger in his coworker's voice, something he normally would have noticed right away.

"Well I'll be damned, it's not you. This was taken in 1939," he said, slightly baffled. "What is it, like a relative? I thought you didn't have any relatives?"

She grabbed the photo from his hand. "Yeah, something like that." She successfully grabbed the photo from him and slid it back into the bottom drawer. She avoided eye contact, turning her shoulder to him and pretending to focus on her work just ask the other detectives and the Captain entered the room.

Deep in her thoughts, she didn't even hear Cragen send them home. The others moved around grabbing their things but she remained at her desk, not looking up. Elliot came over and set his hand on her shoulder. She flinched again and looked up at him. He saw that look in her eyes, that look that said 'Don't push me on this, I'm barely hanging on.'

"Okay," he said, understanding. "Promise you'll go soon."

"Yeah, in 5 minutes," she replied. She didn't look up as he left the room and she purposefully didn't look up and pretended not to notice when Munch came back down the stairs.

He had been thinking as he gathered his things upstairs. Within 5 seconds he'd put two and two together. He didn't notice at the time, he'd been too curious about the old photograph, but he remembered the dismay in Olivia's face when he'd gotten the photo from her. He'd noticed the relief when she'd gotten the photo back in the drawer. The resemblance was uncanny, he thought. He knew it wasn't her mother, he knew she'd been blond and blue eyed, plus the date was off. With that complexion, the relative, if it was a relative, must be on her father's side.

Jogging down the stairs quietly, he say Olivia still at her desk, her desk lamp on in the otherwise dark room. He slowed his pace at the bottom of the stairs and walked quietly towards her, grabbing a chair and pulling it next to her desk, facing her.

Not looking up, she said "What do you want, John?"

He grimaced at the sharp edge her voice had. "I wanted to apologize, Olivia. I'm sorry. I didn't realize..."

She knew that he had figured out who it was, if not exactly, close enough to understand. She looked up at him. "It's okay. Thanks." Not knowing what else to say, she shuffled the papers at her desk. She didn't really have anything else to do, but wasn't quite ready to head back to her apartment.

"Come on," he said, standing. "I'll walk you out."

Olivia was throwing back a glass of orange juice the next morning, about to run out the door when the phone rang. Recognizing Simon's New Jersey phone number, she picked it up with a regular hello instead of her normal "Benson."

"Hey Olivia, it's Simon."

They exchanged non-sensical pleasantries for 30 seconds as Olivia headed down the stairs.

"What the hell are you doing visiting my mother, Olivia?" he blurted out.

"Ahh, I..." she didn't know what to say.

"I saw your card at her house. Hazel told me you were there asking all sorts of questions. What the hell, Olivia? She's sick. Leave her alone, she doesn't need you filling her head..."

Interrupting him, "You think I told her? You think I blindsided your poor, demented mother with an accusation that her husband raped someone and got her pregnant and here I am 35 years later looking like the ghost of her mother-in-law? I just wanted to ask what she could tell me about Joseph Bartoletti. I didn't know she was sick. And I certainly didn't tell her anything."

"I show up this morning and she's going on and on about how nice it was that Annette came for tea yesterday. I thought she was just, you know...but Hazel said some lady cop stopped by for a visit, said that she showed you some old photographs. I knew it had to have been you, and you left your card..."

"Simon, I-"

"Olivia, you should have just asked. I would've taken you to see her."

"I...You would have?" she asked, a little stunned.

"Sure, I mean, I don't want you upsetting her with that history, but she wouldn't need to know the details. She doesn't understand much anyway, but you're my SISTER, Olivia. Come on. I wouldn't keep you from learning about your past."

"Okay." She let out a big sigh. "Thank you, Simon. I mean, I don't know how to do this, I've never had a family before, I don't understand dynamics when it's personal."

"Yeah, I get it. Don't worry. Hey, come over for dinner sometime next week? I'll show you some more photos." He threw this out there like it was no big deal, as it was a casual dinner invitation to the neighbor or coworker. She was stunned. It was a big deal to her.

"Um, yeah, okay," she said hesitantly. Was she going to become one of those New Yorkers who complained about having to go to New Jersey for family dinners? She didn't even dare to hope she would get that opportunity.

She and Simon said their goodbyes and she looked at the weather and decided to walk to work, a new energy in her step. Arriving flushed from the walk, she dumped her things and jumped back into her cases, a little worry at the back of her mind that Shawn hadn't returned her phone call last night or this morning. She wasn't particularly concerned, but it was a little unlike him. Usually if he was caught up in something he'd send a text or email letting her know he'd gotten the message and would get back to her. They had dinner plans tonight, she'd tell him about all this then.

Her day flew by, they went to court, to the ME's office, to interview two separate witnesses. By the time she even thought to look at the clock it was 4:30. She was famished, having grabbed only a hotdog at around 11am. Curious, she checked her phone and her email, still without any message from Shawn. She wracked her brain trying to remember if he'd said anything about today, left any hints that something was amiss. She came up with nothing. She had last seen him two nights ago, they set up plans for dinner, he was going to DC for just the day but then would be back. She wasn't an overly paranoid person, but she did notice when things were out of the ordinary and not hearing from him was definitely out of the ordinary.

She called and left another message on his voicemail, telling herself he'd call her back before their dinner plans, even if he couldn't make it. She got wrapped up in the case again, but found herself more and more distracted as the evening grew later.

At around 730pm, past the time they were supposed to have met, she still hadn't gotten any word. She'd called his cell, his home number and even the one work number he had, where she had reached a receptionist who told her she hadn't seen him all day, which was usual for him.

She slammed the phone back on the cradle in frustration. Elliot looked over at her, about to say something, but changed his mind when he saw the look on her face. She was upset about something. A few minutes later Cragen stuck his head out of his office and hollered "Benson, pick up line 2."

She wrinkled her forehead, wondering what she'd done now.

"Benson," she said into the phone.

"Detective Olivia Benson?" she heard an unfamiliar voice ask. It was deep, with a thick southern accent.

"Yes."

"I am sorry to have to inform you that Agent Shawn Brocklen has gone undercover."

"What? What does that mean? Wh-"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't give any additional information."

"What? For how long? Wh-"

"My apologies, ma'am. No other information is available."

"Where?"

"I'm sorry, Olivia." She heard a click on the other side of the line.

She stood there stunned, staring at the dead receiver in her hand. She moved slowly to place it back on the cradle, as if by moving more slowly she could allow her brain the time to process what this meant.

'Damn the FBI,' she thought. 'Damn the FBI, damn Shawn, damn Shawn for not warning her, damn herself for not being prepared.'

Elliot stood watching. He could only hear her end of the conversation and obviously something was very wrong. He saw her trying to control the emotion on her face and not succeeding very well. Just as he was about to say something, she turned on her heel and ran up the stairs into the locker room.

She was deep in thought, trying to figure out who it could have been that called her. She didn't think it was protocol for the FBI to call out of state girlfriends and let them know they were planning undercover operations. She wondered vaguely if Cragen's phone had recorded the number. The voice was southern, professional, but he didn't identify himself, and he had called her Olivia at the end. She remembered Shawn mentioning a partner that came from the backwoods of Tennessee. It gave her a little comfort that he had thought to think up a plan, but it made her angry that he hadn't bothered to tell her this was even a remote possibility.

She was sitting on the bench in the locker room, one leg on either side, leaning forward onto her hands. Elliot found her there about 10 minutes later.

"Everything okay, Liv?" he asked quietly, approaching her from the back.

"Fuck you, Stabler," she said vehemently, not turning around.

"Hey," he said back bitterly, "what did I do?"

"Fuck you for going undercover all those times and not calling Kathy. How could you do that to your family?"

"Olivia, what is this about?" She wasn't crying, her eyes were dry, but she was obviously very upset.

"He went off the radar, Elliot. He's gone," she said. He could hear her voice shaking, start to crack. She heard it too and instantly pulled herself together. Like hell, she wasn't going to be some weepy female. She'd been through worse things.

"What do you mean he's gone? Shawn?" he asked.

"Like gone, undercover, and not some short term on-loan shit." She knew he was thinking of her own unfortunate, reluctant adventure with the FBI.

"They called you?" he asked, not saying anything more, but coming to sit across from her on the bench, mirroring her pose.

"I don't think it was official, I think it might have been his partner, just giving me a heads up."

"He didn't tell you," Elliot said. It was a statement, not a question.

She shook her head. "I don't know if he didn't know, didn't know when, or just didn't tell me."

"Maybe he couldn't, maybe it just happened," Elliot protested.

She gave him a look. "Have you ever gone undercover without having 30 seconds to call your family, even if you didn't take that opportunity?"

"You didn't have the chance to tell us," he rebutted. She didn't reply but avoided his eye contact for a moment.

"You did have a chance," he realized. "You just chose not to use it."

"That's different. You guys are not my f-" she stopped short.

"What, Liv? Not your family? That's not what I thought."

"That's not what I meant." She was getting frustrated. How did they end up having THIS argument? "It's different and you know it. You not telling Kathy and Shawn not telling me are very different than me not informing the whole squad."

"Why? How is it different?"

"It just is. You guys..." She struggled to explain herself. "No one..."

"No one what, Liv?"

"No one depends on me. Kathy depends on you, I...Shawn..." She glared at him. "It's different. I don't want to have this argument now. It's beside the point."

She sat back down on the bench, hard, stopping the frantic pacing that had been making Elliot nervous. Now he wished she was pacing. The dejected look she had worried him.

"No one depends on you? You can make that argument about the squad, it'll keep going long after we're gone. But what about me, Liv? I depend on you everyday. That didn't stop you."

'Great,' she thought, 'now we're going to fight about Oregon again.'

"Elliot, I don't want to argue." She rubbed her eyes with her hands, putting pressure on the sweet spot next to her nose.

"Okay, we'll not argue. But I want to make my point here, Kathy doesn't NEED me. She's gotten used to me being gone. Does she wish I was home? Maybe, but she got over depending on me when she realized this job...that I...was unreliable. But you, Liv, I depend on you EVERY DAY for all sorts of things and don't try and tell me I didn't notice when you were gone. We, I" he placed a heavy emphasis on the I, "may find that we can replace Benson the Detective, but there are many people here who depend on you OLIVIA for a lot of things that have nothing to do with your job. Especially me."

She didn't say anything, he couldn't even tell if she was processing what he had said.

"Come on," he said, "Let me buy you a drink."

Reluctantly she stood and turned with him to head downstairs. Mollified that she was coming with him without another argument, he tried to get back to the more important subject at hand.

"So who was it that called you?" he asked.

She shrugged "Don't know," she said as they headed outside and down the street towards the local bar.

"They didn't say?"

"No, he sounded all professional about it, calling me by my title, calling me ma'am, but at the end he slipped and called me by my first name." She told Elliot about the partner she'd heard about and the accent.

"So maybe he knew this could happen and he didn't want you to be left totally in the dark so they worked out a plan," Elliot suggested hesitantly. 'Would that be better or worse?' he wondered.

She shrugged, "I wondered that too. It doesn't really matter though, in the end, does it? He's gone, for who knows how long, and I'm left holding the pieces. What in the world was I thinking, El?"

"Did he give you any insight, any idea that he was working in an area that might require him to go undercover?"

She thought back, running over every conversation that she could think of. She shook her head. "I don't think so, not that I can remember."

"So what are you going to do?" he asked, once they were seated at the bar, him with a beer and her with a bourbon on ice.

She didn't reply at first, just fingered the drink in her hand. The glass was wet with the condensation. She shrugged. She picked up the drink and downed half of it in one swallow and set the glass back down.

"I'm going to do is sit and drink my whiskey and then I'm going to have another whiskey and then I am going to go home. What else can I do?"

"But what about..." he trailed off. He didn't know how to ask, didn't want to force her to think about it but knew it would be better in the long run for her to do so.

"What about if he never comes back? How long do I wait? What if he does come back? Do I want to live a life where this could happen again at any time? I don't know the answers to any of those questions. So I am going to drink my whiskey and go home and then go to work tomorrow. That's all I know for now."

Elliot nodded slowly. "But.."

"El," she interrupted him. "I don't know, I don't know what to do so I don't want to talk about it." They sat in silence for almost a minute, each sipping at their drinks.

"Elliot?" she asked quietly. "I need you to promise me something."

"Sure, what?" he replied, almost instinctively. He meant it. There was nothing he wouldn't promise this woman if she asked it of him.

"I need you to promise that you won't go running off undercover, even for just a day, without telling Kathy. It's not worth it."

He let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding in one long exhale.

"Ah, Liv..."

"Now you won't promise?"

"It's not that simple."

"Not that simple?" She was angry with him. It was beyond her that he could be so cavalier with his family, take them so for granted. "It is exactly that simple. She is your WIFE, the mother of your CHILDREN."

He interrupted her. "She's leaving me, Olivia. She's already left. She drew up divorce papers last week."

She had taken a breath to continue her tirade, but when those words hit her she felt her anger, her breath, leave her like she was a deflated balloon. "When, El? Why?"

"Maybe she just got tired of me going undercover without letting her know," he said with an uncomfortable smile.

"Elliot..." she said, devastated for her friend. "What happened?"

"It hasn't been right in a while, we just weren't...things weren't the same. I was never around enough, she moved on, maybe so did I...I don't know."

She grabbed the bartender's attention and ordered another round of drinks for them both. She was already feeling the effects of the whiskey. She needed to be careful here.

"The kids?" she asked.

"They know, they understand. Not happy about it, but at least the older girls I think knew things hadn't been right. I couldn't make a marriage work, not with this job, the hours..."

It sounded to Olivia like it was half explanation and half him blaming himself.

"Elliot, sometimes things just don't work, no matter how hard we try."

"What if I didn't try hard enough? My kids, Liv, my FAMILY. I could have tried harder."

"Sometimes it's not about what we can or can't do."

"What if I COULD have tried harder but chose not to?" he asked quietly.

She might have been buzzed by the whiskey, but she was pretty sure he would have to be falling-on-his-ass drunk to say something like that. The Elliot Stabler she knew considered nothing more important than his family.

"You know that's not true. *I* know that's not true. Nothing is more important to you than your family."

"And even that wasn't enough." He took a long swallow from his beer.

She didn't say anything for a minute. "We're quite a mess," she said finally. What a couple of effed up cops we are. What are we even doing here, El?"

He knew she didn't mean the bar, but more in life. He lifted his glass to her sadly "At least we're doing it together."

She raised her eyebrows and nodded as she took a long swallow. 'At least there was that,' she thought.


	16. Chapter 16

Return and Continue On Chapter 16

_What are we even doing here, El?" _

_He knew she didn't mean the bar, but more in life. He lifted his glass to her sadly "At least we're doing it together."_

_She raised her eyebrows and nodded as she took a long swallow. 'At least there was that,' she thought. _

Life slowly returned to normal for Olivia. Somewhat normal, that is. She worked, she went home, she went out for the occasional beer with the guys. She missed Shawn and spent a lot of time trying not to let her worry encompass all of her.

About a week after she'd gotten the phone call she'd gotten a postcard in the mail. It was addressed to her, in Shawn's handwriting, but the postcard itself was blank. The photo the front she recognized as being from an Italian restaurant in the village that they had frequented on multiple occasions. A few days after that it was a postcard of Central Park, then an advertisement for a Mexican soda that they'd each had during a meal in Spanish Harlem, then a couple more, all places that they'd been together or had some significance. They were all postmarked Florida. Olivia wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but it made her feel like he hadn't forgotten her and that he wanted her to know that. Also every time one arrived in the mail, she was assured he wasn't dead.

Elliot had swung by her apartment to pick her up to head out to a crime scene and was loitering in her apartment, having caught her unprepared for the pick up. He absentmindedly flipped through the pile of postcards sitting on the counter.

She saw him put the stack down sheepishly as she exited the bedroom shrugging on her jacket.

"Stop snooping, Stabler."

"I wasn't," he replied.

"Yeah, right," she said.

As they walked out of her apartment, she turned to lock the deadbolt when her neighbor hurried up to them. "Olivia!" she called. "They delivered your mail to me again!" The older lady bustled towards them with a few envelopes. Olivia took them from her and thanked her as she bustled back down the hall. Olivia flipped through the envelopes disinterestedly but paused when she noticed another postcard in the stack. The front had no words, but simply a photograph of a toasted, very gooey, grilled cheese sandwich. She flipped it over. No message, again, but the handwriting was Shawn's left handed tilted scrawl and the postmark was again Florida. She'd googled the postmark last week; it was outside of Miami.

She stood for a moment too long and Elliot grabbed the postcard for her hand. "Someone sending you creepy postcards, Liv? That making you nervous at all?"

She shook her head. He'd misunderstood her emotions as concern rather than relief.

"They're not creepy, El. What's creepy about a sandwich?" she replied, grabbing the card back and pushing it into her bag.

"The fact that it's not signed, there's no message, and it came to your home address."

"Oh, relax, Stabler. It's fine," she argued.

"It's NOT fine. It could be..." he protested until she cut him off.

"They're from Shawn, El. I recognize the handwriting, plus each one is from a place, or of a thing, that means something to me." She said it as if she was admitting something embarrassing.

"Ahhh, I see," he said with a bit of a grin. "He's wooing you from undercover. Impressive. I think you've done a number on this guy. Can't even do his job without thinking about you." He paused for a minute. "A cheese sandwich though, Liv? Really?"

"Hey, it was our first date and it was after I'd come back from Oregon and I was hungry ALL THE TIME. He figured out the way to my heart was melted cheese and some toasted bread. He's a smart man." She settled comfortably into the seat and smiled softly to herself.

'If only that was all it took,' Elliot found himself thinking. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he almost panicked at the direction his mind was moving. 'This was OLIVIA for god's sake, not a woman he wanted to woo. He must be extra tired this morning.

o o o o o o o o o o o o

Another ten days and two more postcards came and went. Olivia had the day off and was enjoying it. The others were hard at work. In her office downtown, Casey was reviewing her closing arguments and had given instructions not to be disturbed. Casey's assistant knocked on her door and said "Your brother's on the phone, Miss Novak. Says its important and he needs to talk with you right now."

Irritated at her brother, not at her assistant, Casey sighed and said "Ugh, all right. Thanks. Which brother, did he say?"

The assistant shook her head, "No ma'am, he didn't say. How many brothers do you have?"

"Too many," the redhead replied as she picked up the phone and hit the hold button. "Novak. This better be good."

"Casey?" the voice on the other side of the line asked, a little shakily. She recognized the voice instantly. "Brent? What happened?"

As she was closing the door behind her, the assistant saw her face pale and her legs almost give out from underneath her as she sank into her desk chair.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "Oh my God. When? Do you know what happened? What..." She had too many questions. She just sat and listened, head in her hands, while her older brother told her all he knew.

Twenty minutes later she gathered her things and rushed out of her office. Trial prep would have to wait. Yelling over her shoulder towards the assistant that she had an emergency, she flew out the door and uptown in a taxi at record speed.

She burst into the squadroom at the 1-6 looking a little harried, causing the detectives to look up in surprise. Scanning the room, she saw Olivia was missing.

She collected herself and paused briefly, "Hey guys," she said, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Hi Casey," a chorus of voices replied.

"What's got you in such a flurry, Casey? Something go wrong with your trial?" Fin asked. Something was obviously very wrong with their normally cool and collected ADA.

"Where's Olivia?" she asked in reply.

"Has the day off. Home probably," Elliot replied.

She walked up to Elliot's desk. "Elliot, I need you to come with me," she said.

"I just can't up and leave now Case, I'm right in the middle..."

"Now, Elliot, I need you to come NOW." Everyone in the squad could hear the tremble of Casey's voice. He set down what he was doing and followed her out of the room, leaving the others staring at their backs

"Casey...?" he questioned. "What's going on?"

"We need to go to Olivia's," she said simply.

"Why?"

"Because she is going to need you." And she proceeded to tell Elliot most of what her brother had relayed to her on the phone earlier.

They parked Elliot's unmarked sedan in the loading zone and walked p to Olivia's apartment. "Do you think she knows? Would someone have called her?" Elliot asked, thinking of the phone call she'd gotten several weeks before.

"I have no idea. I don't know how this works," Casey replied.

The reached her apartment and Elliot wished they didn't have to knock, wished he didn't have to do this to this woman who deserved so much more than what life had given her. As he raised his hand to knock, Casey at his side, the door opened. A stocky, sandy-haired man with a full beard was as surprised to see them as they were to see him. He glanced back at Olivia, who stood in the hallway and said "Ma'am," and nodded at her. He nodded at the two standing in the doorway and walked down the hall. Elliot watched him for a minute, noticing his deep voice and the southern twang unmistakable even after uttering only a single word. 'The partner,' he thought. 'Shawn sent his partner. She knows.'

When he looked back at Olivia standing in front of the door, he knew he would have known immediately that she had already been told. Her eyes were red, with some smeared eye makeup, but we're dry. She stood up against the wall of the galley kitchen as if she was holding it up, her arms wrapped around her front as if they were holding her ribs together. Her posture made it look like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She stared back at her two friends without an expression on her face. She didn't move. Elliot walked inside, followed closely by Casey, who closed the door quietly behind her.

"Olivia?" Elliot asked quietly. She looked up at him and met his eye, inwardly begging him not to say anything or her eggshell control would shatter. He didn't get the message.

"Was that Shawn's partner?" he asked simply.

She nodded without saying another word and he pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in a hug he wished he had been able to give her a hundred times before. As his arms surrounded her he felt her resolve crack and her shoulders shook with sobs. Casey was a little stunned. She'd never seen her strong and capable friend show such emotion. Frankly, even Elliot was surprised. He'd never seen his partner cry like this.

It wasn't that she didn't have the emotions, but Olivia kept them very well controlled. She'd learned early on that showing that you were upset got you nowhere except in bed without supper. If Casey and Elliot hadn't arrived when they had, she would have sobbed by herself in the shower and pulled herself together before anyone was the wiser.

As her choked cries slowed, Casey patted her on the back and handed her some Kleenex she'd found in the kitchen. Elliot walked over to the couch with her and forced her to sit.

"You heard?" she asked Casey.

She nodded.

"How?" she asked.

"One of my brothers called me. What did he tell you, Olivia?"

"There was an Operation. Overseas was the word he used, but I think it was Cuba. He didn't say. Something went wrong. He was shot, once, right in the stomach. Close range. Must've hit a major blood vessel. He bled out before they could get to a doctor." She was repeating the words mechanically, as if by rote. It was hard to tell if she even understood what she was saying. "He had every protection, every backup in place, was cautious, but someone went bad, one of the other guys flipped out and set of a reaction from everyone else." Her tears were threatening again. She shook her head angrily.

"Shawn told his partner to find you?" Elliot asked.

She nodded. "He told me Shawn had given him an envelope, sealed, several months ago, and had told him if anything happened, if he had to go under, if he was injured or if the worst happened..." Her voice cracked on the word worst. "He was to call me and tell me." I guess he figured this warranted more than a phone call.

"When did it happen?" Casey asked. She was in tears herself and Elliot was reminded that she'd grown up with Shawn; he wasn't just an acquaintance to her.

"Lee, his partners name was...is...was, Lee, said three days ago. He'd been there as well, but wasn't with him at the time. It took him a day to get back and another to sort things out before they let him leave Quantico."

"What did they tell you?" she asked Casey. She was desperate for more information, though she knew she wasn't going to get it.

"Um, my brother Brent called. He's my second brother, 6 years older than me. He said Jeff, that's my third brother, the one who's the same age as Shawn, told him last night. Shawn's parents had called him yesterday, he was going to go with them to meet the..." she was going to say the body but couldn't do it. "There's going to be a funeral, probably this weekend. You should come with me," she said.

"I dunno, Casey. His family will be there..."

"It's just his parents, Olivia. He didn't have a big family, it's why he adopted mine. I am sure they would like to meet you."

"They might not even know about me, Casey, I don't want to just show up."

"Last time I saw Shawn, he told me his mom was giving him a hard time for not inviting you to Virginia for the weekend. I asked him why he hadn't had you down there and he told me he didn't want to freak you out by asking you to meet his parents and inviting you to go on an out of state trip at the same time. I think they would love to see you." She smiled softly at the thought of Shawn's parents. They were an older and quiet couple, always a contrast to her loud and busy family.

Elliot's phone rang and Olivia jumped. She'd forgotten that he was there. "Yeah, I know. Sorry….Had to take care of something…Yeah, now…Okay. Gimme 15. Yeah." He snapped the phone closed. He hated to leave her alone. He looked over at Casey and then back at Olivia, who was staring at the wall.

"I'll stay," Casey said in a low voice. He nodded and looked over at Olivia, who was still staring at the wall. He patted her hand, "Hey, I have to go back. You okay?"

"Uh..yeah…I'll be okay," she replied numbly.

"You going to take some time? Want me to tell Cragen?" he asked.

"No. What am I going to do, sit around at home and cry?"

Elliot nodded at her. "Okay," he said. He gave her shoulder a squeeze and gave Casey a little rub on the arm and headed out of the apartment. Olivia stood to walk him towards the door and as she shut the door and turned back towards Casey her tears began to fall again, silently this time.

Walking into the squadroom, Elliot was waved into Cragen's office the minute he set foot inside. He earned a dirty look from Munch on the way; he didn't appreciate Elliot's midday break.

"Welcome back, Detective. Care to share what was so important that you needed to leave in the middle of this mess? We needed the specs on the Missler case yesterday." He had seen Casey come into the squadroom and seen both of them leave; he wanted to give his officers the benefit of the doubt.

"Uh…Cap?" Cragen looked up at his Detective from the files on his desk, "You know that guy Olivia was dating?"

"The spook? Yeah, why?" the Captain replied only half-listening.

"He was killed overseas three days ago. Casey was an old family friend and she wanted me to go with her to tell Olivia."

"Ah…Shit…" the bald Captain replied, setting down his work. He was full of sympathy for his officer. She didn't deserve this. "Is she okay?"

"She is pretending she is."

"She going to take some time?"

"She says no, says she doesn't want to be sitting around with nothing to occupy her time."

Cragen nodded. "Fine. You keep an eye on her. If her head's not in this you let me know, understand?"

Elliot nodded at him and returned to his desk. He tried to focus on his work, but his mind kept drifting back to his partner. The determined look she had on her face when he first saw her in her apartment, as if she was refusing to let the truth sink in, the way she felt leaning against him when he hugged her, the way her slim shoulders shook in his arms as she cried. He shook his head to clear his mind.

Fin walked over to him. Ever observant, he had noticed the look on Casey's face and overheard part of what she said. "Everything okay with your partner, Stabler? Something wrong with that FBI boyfriend of hers? Look, I'll hold his arms if you need to…."

Elliot cut him off. "No, Fin. Nothing like that. He…He's dead, Fin, and Liv is pretending she's okay."

"Aw…Shit, man, just…Shit." He leaned back against his desk and rubbed his chin. "She alone now?"

"Casey's with her," Elliot replied. Fin nodded and got up and slowly walked back to his own desk. Out of the corner of his eye, Elliot saw him talking quietly to Munch. He sighed. At least Olivia would have people looking out for her when she got back here.

o o o o o o o o o o o

Olivia arrived early to work the next morning. She was glad that the room was still mostly empty. She slid into her desk and closed her eyes when she saw the photo resting on her desk. It was of her and Shawn taken that past summer at Coney Island. They were suntanned and smiling; Olivia wore a big sunhat and Shawn had a frozen drink that had turned his teeth purple. She took the photo and dropped it into her desk drawer, slamming it closed with a thunk. She pulled out some files and tried to focus on her work. Munch was the only detective there that early in the morning and he sauntered over to her slowly. 

He set a cup of steaming coffee in front of her on the desk. She looked up at him and murmured her thanks. "You look like you didn't get much sleep last night," he said simply.

"That is the understatement of the year," she said with a grimace, sipping the coffee. It tasted like mud but she was going to drink it anyway, because she needed it and because Munch had brought it to her.

"Look, you need ANYTHING, you let me know, understand?" he said to her.

She nodded at him with a half-hearted smile. He patted her on the shoulder and went back to his desk. Now was not the time to push her buttons, she would share when and if she needed to.

The others drifted in to work one at a time and the morning dragged by. She caught Elliot watching her a time or two, but he never got her alone and he didn't say anything personal in the large public room. Olivia felt she had lived a lifetime and the clock was only ready 1130am when she heard a ruckus coming from the hallway. She looked up just in time to see Brian Cassidy and two other officers entering the room, being greeted loudly by the officers that knew them.

'Of course, today of all days…' she thought darkly. She got up to refill her coffee, hoping the menial task would give them something to focus on. She added some milk and a sugar and gave it a stir as Cassidy approached her.

"Hey, Olivia. How's it going?" he asked in a friendly voice.

"It's going, Brian. How're you?" she replied, putting on her bravest face.

"I'm good, good. Narcotics is treating me well, everything's great," he replied with a smile directed at her.

'Oh boy,' she thought, 'Here we go.'

Across the room Elliot and Munch were watching the interaction. "This is not going to end well," Munch said. He headed towards the coffee maker.

Cassidy leaned towards Olivia gently. "So, now that we're not working together we could always pick up where we left off. You know, you always said not while we worked together… You could ditch that loser FBI boyfriend I hear you've got and…"

She was panicking. He needed to stop. Now. Before she knew what was happening the coffee was flying out of her hands and all over Cassidy. She turned on her heel and ran out of the building, foregoing the decrepit, slow elevator for the stairs.

"What the…Hey, that was totally unnecessary…" he sputtered to no one in particular now that Olivia was gone. He was trying to lift the hot coffee-soaked shirt off his front.

Munch was already halfway across the room when he saw the coffee go flying. He thought briefly that he was glad she hadn't thrown a punch. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Elliot hurrying after Olivia, they shared a look. He handed Cassidy a handful of napkins to aid in his futile clean-up.

"What the hell did you say to her?" Munch demanded. He was angry, Cassidy thought. At least Munch was less likely to be violent than Stabler, but he'd rarely seen Munch this angry. "Nothing, I didn't say anything crazy. What the hell is wrong with her?"

"What'd you say to her?" he demanded again.

"I made a crack about her going on a date with me again now that we weren't in the same unit. Nothing we haven't jabbed about before, she never flipped out before," Cassidy tried to defend himself without sounding whiney. Munch thought he was failing.

"A date with you AGAIN?" Munch asked. 'THAT was as interesting tidbit,' he thought, but he wasn't going to dig into that now. "Well, she's had a bad week. Leave her alone, come back in a few months and make nice and hopefully she won't try to hit you."

Cassidy was still wiping his coffee-stained shirt. "Stabler must be wearing off on her…Good grief."

"Hey, cut her some slack," Munch said. He quietly told Cassidy what had happened.

Cassidy took a sharp breath in. "Oh man, no wonder. She should've tried to smash in my face. Give her my apologies, would you?" He looked at Munch in earnest. Cassidy was a bit of a screw up, but he wasn't a bad guy.

Outside, Olivia had turned down toward the corner to the coffee cart to buy a replacement coffee. She was searching her pockets for change, having left her wallet inside, when Elliot approached behind her, paid for the balance of her coffee and ordered his own.

"You know, if you didn't like Munch's coffee you could've just tossed it in the trash rather than on Cassidy," Elliot said blandly.

She looked at him and guffawed. "Yeah, well, it seemed like the best solution to two problems at the time. God, they must all think I'm crazy."

"No, I think they probably all think you are reacting in a very understandable way, considering. Plus, I don't think anyone besides Brian minded seeing him covered in coffee," he replied to her.

She smiled at him. "Thanks for saying so, anyway." She watched Cassidy and the two other officers leave the building down the block.

"You ready to go back in?" Elliot asked her.

She shook her head. "Not at all," she said over her shoulder as she headed back. "You coming?"

He jogged a couple steps to catch up with her and they walked back in stride.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Later that day, they were sent to the ME's office to take a second look at the evidence for the Missler case.

In the car, he looked over at his partner carefully, trying not to let her know he was watching her. He was failing. She knew, but she let him think she didn't know it.

"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly.

"I'm fine, El." She replied automatically, without even thinking.

"Olivia…." He warned.

"What do you want me to say Elliot? That I didn't sleep AT ALL last night? I didn't. That the last thing I want to do right now is go look at dead bodies? It certainly is. That this is so horrible I don't know what to say? It is. But look, if I fell apart…If I couldn't function every time something bad happened to me, I'd have been fired a long time ago. I'll be okay."

She left unsaid that she wanted more than anything for him to hug her like he had yesterday, that she wanted to feel his strong arms holding her, holder her up. She left unsaid that she wanted him to tell her that it was going to be okay, that she wasn't completely and utterly alone again.

Her head was reeling. For some reason as much as she craved it, she couldn't abide Elliot's physical presence next to her today. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that they couldn't be both friends and partners. She knew the minute they started being friends, they wouldn't STAY simply friends. Once THAT line was crossed, and crossing that line was absolutely inevitable, they couldn't be partners anymore. And if that happened, she would lose him, just as she had lost everyone else. She couldn't lose him, so he had to stay her partner.

"Liv, I can—" he began before she cut him off.

"You can what, El? You can't fix this. You can't make this better. Right now I just need you to watch my back, I'll take care of the other thing." She had that stubborn set to her jaw, the one he knew she got when she meant the discussion was over.

"Okay," he said, putting his hand over hers where it sat on her leg.

She jumped slightly at the physical contact. 'When had the casual touching started between them?' she thought.

"Okay," he repeated. His partner was either the strongest person he had every met or was an expert at hiding her emotions, possibly both.

They made it through the visit at the morgue. Olivia faked her way through the briefing, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. All she could think of was another cold morgue somewhere in Virginia, Shawn's parents having to see him like this. She couldn't help but imagine him so cold, where his warmth had always comforted her before. The chill of the room seemed to sink into her soul. The minute she could, she hurried out of the building into the fall sunshine. She stood by the side of the car, trying to warm herself up. Elliot approached her and looked at her silently, not saying anything. He gave her a minute after she knew he was there and then asked "Ready?" She nodded and silently climbed into the passenger seat, thinking he knew her, her emotions and how she liked to deal with them better than she did.


	17. Chapter 17

The rest of the week went by in a fog. She hadn't been sent out on any field work, for some reason Fin and Munch seemed to be catching all the interesting cases. She wondered if that was on purpose or not and if Elliot was irritated, but honestly she didn't care.

Friday evening she had a small bag packed and headed towards the door on the way to the airport. She was going to grab the train, figuring it'd be faster in rush hour on a Friday evening.

Knowing where she was headed, Elliot walked out with her. "You sure you don't want a ride?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, El. I just…I just need to get through this. On my own." She walked to the curb and flagged down a cab toward Penn Station, which came screeching to a halt in front of her. He held the door open for her and she climbed in. "I'll see you when you get back." He closed the door firmly and tapped the top of the cab twice.

During the short flight to Washington, Olivia questioned herself over and over again. She wasn't sure going to this funeral was a good idea. Casey clearly thought it was, but Casey didn't really understand. She'd grown up in this huge family. The only family funeral that Olivia had ever been to was her mother's, and that was certainly atypical. She didn't have any blueprint for what to expect. Casey was picking her up from the airport, having rented a car and driven down earlier in the week. She was going to stay with Casey at her parents' house that night, they would attend the service in the morning and then make the 4 hour drive back that evening. She was heading into uncharted territory here. She was doing this for Shawn, for closure. It would have been so much easier to avoid the whole situation, but she couldn't do that, he wouldn't like her to avoid it.

Casey picked her up at the curb and they chatted amiably, avoiding the topic at hand until they exited the highway. Casey was going on and on about a case at work and Olivia wasn't listening.

"Casey," she said, interrupting her friend, who didn't notice. "Casey!" she said loudly. The redhead stopped talking abruptly.

"You okay, Liv?" she asked, giving her friend a quick glance. She looked kind of green.

"Yeah, fine. Just…just tell me again where we are going?"

"We're going to my parent's house. They're glad to have you. They have plenty of space. We'll stay there tonight, drive to the service tomorrow, we'll stick around for the reception and get back to the city before it's too late." Casey spouted off their itinerary, hoping it would calm Olivia's nerves, even as she knew that wasn't why she was nervous. "My parents will be there and probably a couple of my brothers…"

Olivia nodded silently as they pulled up to a modest looking house with rose bushes in the front yard and a couple of cars parked out front. "Um…there might be a few more people here than I was expecting," Casey said.

Olivia looked toward Casey with a slightly panicked look in her eye. "How many people, Casey?"

"Well, the blue SUV belongs to my brother Brent, so probably him and his wife and kids. The red stationwagon is my brother Allen, so his family. The Grey Toyota is Jason's."

"Casey! That's practically your whole family! Maybe this wasn't a good idea."

"It's only about half of them and Stop! It will be fine. They'll be nice, I promise."

"They're just so MANY of them, Casey. To me family was me and my mother. I never had relatives like this, I…I don't know what to do."

"Do? What do you mean do?" Casey asked, baffled. "You don't have to DO anything, just show up. Remember they will be loud, but they don't mean anything by it."

"Come on, let's go…" she climbed of the car and grabbed Olivia's small duffel bag. She marched up towards the house, leaving Olivia to follow her up the steps.

Casey entered the house without knocking, giving a holler as she walked in the door, dropping Olivia's duffel and her own coat in the entry. Two small boys went tearing through the hallway, followed by a small girl with brown braids flying behind her. Casey walked down the hall and Olivia trailed behind her, seeing people clustered in a sitting room off the hallway. Turning right before she got to the kitchen, Casey looked at her friend. Her normally confident demeanor belied the nervous look Casey saw in her face. Remembering how this just wasn't any visit and seeing how overwhelmed Olivia was, she paused. "Hey, we'll just tell them we're here and then we'll go upstairs, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Olivia replied, pretending she was fine with the overwhelming people and awkward situation she was about to face.

Casey stuck her head through the doorway into the kitchen. "Hey!" she called.

"Casey! Hey, you're back. That was quick." She stepped into the kitchen with Olivia right behind.

Olivia saw an older woman and several others standing around in the kitchen, some drinking coffee, diet cokes and one person had a beer. The older woman walked towards them; she looked a little like Casey. "You must be Olivia! We're so glad you were able to make it, wish we could have met you during better circumstances." She pulled Olivia into a hug before she knew what was happening.

"Uh, Olivia, this is my mother, Tracy." The woman let her go and patted her twice on the back. "This is my brother Brent, and my sisters-in-law Judith and Mary." Olivia gave them a small smile, not knowing quite what to say. She was so far away from her comfort zone she didn't even know how to pretend.

"You ladies want some coffee, or a beer?" Brent offered. "Anything you want, Ma's probably got it around somewhere."

"I'd love some coffee," Casey replied. "Olivia?" she asked.

"Sure, thank you, " Olivia replied, she wasn't sure what the proper response was but saying yes seemed to be the path of least resistance. Coffee would surely help. She had been running on fumes all week.

Casey took a mug of coffee from her brother and passed it to Olivia before taking a second for herself. She chatted amiably with the others in the room, giving Olivia a chance to observe. After a few moments, the man who had offered the coffee stepped over towards her.

"Refill?" he asked, holding up a half-full pot of coffee.

"Sure, thanks," Olivia replied, she offered him a small smile.

"My mother never met a problem she didn't think couldn't be solved by a good pot of coffee," he said.

"Brent, right?" Olivia asked. He nodded in response. "Thanks for the coffee, Brent. Um, which brother are you?"

"Uh, the second? There are four of us, then Casey, then there is one more younger than her."

"That's a lot of brothers," Olivia replied, trying to imagine what that possibly could have been like growing up.

"Don't feel sorry for Casey, she gave as good as she got. You have any siblings?"

"Ah, no, just me," Olivia replied.

"Ah, an only child, parents all to yourself, house all to yourself, your own room, no hand-me-downs. My childhood dream," he said back with a smile.

Olivia didn't respond, but took a sip of her coffee and prepared herself for more questions as someone else approached her. She made more small talk for a few more minutes before the woman was dragged away. People were leaving and Casey turned and dragged her upstairs.

"They're all leaving now," she said. She directed Olivia towards a spare bedroom, showed her the bathroom, everything she needed.

The next morning, Olivia sat dressed in a black pencil skirt, a gray sleeveless top and a fitted black belted trench coat. She was sitting on the bed of the guest room and was trying to get up the nerve to go downstairs when Casey knocked and slowly opened the door. She stuck her head inside and saw her normally calm and collected friend and coworker sitting nervously on the side of the bed.

"Hey," she said quietly.

Olivia looked at her from across the room. "I don't think I can do this, Casey." The redhead walked across the room and sat down.

"Yeah, you can. It will be hard, and unbelievably awkward, but you can."

"There's just so many people…" she said hesitantly.

"They won't be looking at you; Hell, they probably won't even notice you."

Olivia thought that Casey was full of shit, but didn't say so. Casey was right about one thing though, she just had to get through the next twelve hours.

Just as they were about to get up, Casey's mother stuck her head in the room. "Ready girls?" she asked, taking in the situation in front of her. Her look softened and she entered the room and sat down on the other side of Olivia. "I may have raised a house full of boys and one silly tomboy, but I know that look when I see it." She rubbed Olivia's back gently. "It'll be hard, but you'll be okay."

Olivia didn't say anything, but nodded, her jaw set. "Oh" Casey's mother said, "You're a tough one too, not used to being the one who needs anything. Well, we all need something, sometime. Let your friends be your friends. Come on, you ride with me Olivia. Casey, you go with your father and the boys in the pickup." She stood and walked out of the room.

"That okay with you, Liv?" Casey asked.

Olivia looked up in surprise. "I'm pretty sure neither of us have a choice, your mother has spoken. It's fine."

In the car on the way to the cemetery, Casey's mother said bluntly to Olivia "You're not used to being around big families, are you?"

"Ah, no, not at all," she replied. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well, we're a little much for anyone, that I understand, and it's unusual circumstances, but I got the feeling a lot of that last night was new for you."

"Yeah, you could say that. It was just me and my mother growing up, and in the city, so there were no big houses with yards and certainly not a lot of people."

"Well, you held your own just fine last night. When I married Casey's father I met his 4 siblings, I just had one brother, and it took me a while to get used to the noise. Just stake out a corner and let the bustle move around you, I say." She waved the statement off with a flick of her wrist, as if it was fact.

Olivia couldn't help but smile at the familiar gesture. "I can tell you are Casey's mother," she said.

"Bah," she said with a wave as they pulled up behind the red pickup truck that the others were piling out of. She smiled as Casey jumped the two feet from the truck door, landing perfectly in her heels like a true New Yorker.

Olivia loitered back as the others approached the graveside. She didn't want to be in the thick of things, she preferred standing in the back. She felt someone come up behind her and was surprised to recognize Lee, Shawn's partner. He greeted her quietly. "Glad you could make it, ma'am," he said.

"For god sakes, please stop calling me ma'am. Olivia, please," she said.

"Sure, whatever you say," he replied. "No offense meant, m-, Olivia. Sorry, I'm a southern boy, it was beaten into me with a big stick."

She turned and gave him a small smile, they were just about the same height, though he probably outweighed her by 60 pounds.

They turned to watch the service, which was just about to begin. Lee pointed out Shawn's parents to her. They were an older couple, maybe mid-70s. A man who looked like a taller, thinner version of Casey's brother Brent was sitting next to Shawn's mother. 'Another brother,' Olivia thought. The one that was the same age as Shawn, she thought, trying to keep them straight. The service was short, but with full military honors. Shawn had been in the Air Force before the FBI. When the guns lifted for their salute, Olivia braced herself for the jolt. When they went off, she jumped anyway and felt Lee's hand on her arm. They flinched together for the followed shots. She glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye and she saw him fighting the tears. She put her eyes back forward, but gave his hand an extra squeeze.

As the group slowly started to disperse after, the two who felt like outsiders hung towards the edge of the group. Olivia kept an eye on Casey, her ride, and saw her talking quietly with some other people that were probably more brothers. Lee was taking something out of his jacket pocket.

"Ma'am….Olivia…" he was saying, "I brought these, thought you might like to have them. I'm not sure exactly what he meant to do with them, but he had them in his things." He handed over to her a short stack of postcards, in a similar vein as the other one's she had received. She sorted through them with a smile, blinking back tears. "They were all addressed to you, but none of them were written on…I thought maybe they meant something to you…" Lee was going on, looking incredibly awkward.

"Yeah, they do…mean something…Thank you, Lee." She turned to see Casey waiting for her. He set a business card on top of the stack. "Keep in touch, huh? Let me know how you're doing?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied, nodding. 'Always a loyal partner, looking after his people even after the fact,' she thought. She knew how that worked. She'd make a note to send him an email now and then to check on him as well.

She followed Casey back to the cars. Casey was telling her something about funeral food, and a reception at her parents' house, her brothers. Olivia wasn't really listening, she was looking at all the postcards a second time.

They returned back to the house, which seemed to be busier and even more bustling than the previous day. Within minutes of arriving home, Casey's mother was pulling trays of food from the refrigerator, giving orders to get drinks and tables from the garage, giving everyone a task with the precision of a drill sergeant. Not one person hesitated to obey her orders. Within minutes, the backward was full of people eating and drinking. Olivia remembered what Casey's mother had told her the day before and staked out a spot in the corner where she could drink her coffee and pretend to each a sandwich, which she truly had no appetite for. She met a few more of Casey's brothers and couldn't keep them straight. She enjoyed watching the large family and extended friends, including Shawn's parents and some other people that had been at the funeral. She liked watching the dynamics of a loving family, which she had never gotten to experience, plus it gave her an excuse not to think about why she was really there.

Casey was bustling, trying to help her parents and catch up with all her family. She walked into the kitchen to find a two of her brothers watching the crowd out the window over beers.

"You see the brunette at the back of the crowd today? A hot ticket, that one. Who is she?" Casey's oldest brother Jason was saying.

"The one in the corner trying not to pretend she's miserable?" Allen replied, gesturing towards Olivia sipping her coffee in the corner of the yard, blissfully spared from small talk with strangers for the time being. "I think Casey brought her down from New York." Turning and seeing Casey entering the room, he said "Hey, Case, who's the gorgeous brunette?"

"Who?" she asked, momentarily confused. She followed her brother's gaze outside towards Olivia.

"That's Olivia. She's Shawn's…she's dating...was dating…." She waved her hand, meaning 'you figure it out..' They did.

With new understanding, they turned to look at her again as Kevin, Casey's younger brother, and Jeff joined them. "What're we looking at guys?" he asked, turning to follow their gaze. The four men stood and observed for a moment, they had eyes and minds as keen as their sister's.

Jason answered his question, "The mystery brunette," he gestured towards Olivia…

"Uh huh?" Kevin replied eagerly.

"That's Shawn's lady cop, came down with Casey from New York." Jason went on, dashing his younger brother's hopes. Kevin's face fell, more from his understanding than his own disappointment in finding out she wasn't exactly available at the moment.

"He really liked her, you know?" Jeff said quietly, as they watched her sipping her coffee. "Said she was the real deal, just needed to convince her of that." He looked over at Casey.

"Yeah, I know," Casey said sadly.

"I'm going to go talk to her," Jeff said, grabbing two beers from the cooler.

Olivia was not exactly enjoying herself, but was certainly not put out at the circumstances in which she found herself. She was sipping what she thought was her third cup of coffee, she didn't really want it, but it gave her something to do. She saw one of Casey's brothers approaching her and became very busy stirring the coffee.

"Hi. Olivia?" he asked. She lifted her head. "Yeah, hi."

"I'm Jeff, one of—"

"Casey's brothers? Yeah, I get it. She has a lot of them…" Olivia said with the best smile she could muster.

"Yeah…sorry about that. Jeff," he said, sticking out his hand. Olivia shook it.

"Nice to meet you," she said. She knew this was the brother that had been closest to Shawn, the same age, the one who was supposed to pick up the body with his parents. He offered her one of the beers in his hands.

She gestured towards her coffee. "No, thanks, I'm okay."

"Come on," he pressed, "you know you want one."

"What are you going to do if I refuse, hit me with a spitball?" she said.

He laughed out loud at her, and Olivia cringed, glancing around at who was going to glare at them for laughing at a funeral, but it seemed that no one noticed.

"No wonder Shawn liked you so much…" He offered her the beer again, this time she took it. "It'll help," he said.

"That's what I'm afraid of," she said under her breath. Jeff heard, but wasn't sure what to say to that.

"So you heard about the spitball, huh?" he asked, trying to break the silence.

"Yeah," Olivia replied. "The way Casey described it I never would have thought it was something that happened over 20 years ago."

"Yeah, well, did she tell you why she REALLY got hit with a spitball? Which, by the way, I won't do to anyone who isn't a blood relative. That was Shawn's idea."

"And what did YOU want to do with her?" Olivia asked slying.

"Ah, I was in favor of drowning her in the neighbor's pool," he said sheepishly.

"So Casey said it had to do with her beating you in a baseball game…" Olivia replied hesitantly.

"Well, yeah, in theory. She absolutely embarrassed us on the field, but the kicker was that she knew she was going to kick our skinny asses and somehow she got 4 or 5 of the prettiest, most popular girls in our class to come out and watch that game, in order to ensure our humiliation." Jeff shook his head. "It was the first and last time we ever underestimated my little sister."

"Yeah, well, knowing Casey…."

They sat drinking their beers, Olivia was barely sipping at hers. No way she was going to appear intoxicated at a funeral, especially given her personal experience.

"Shawn really liked you, you know. Said you were the real deal, he..." Jeff stopped, Olivia barely glanced over at him, trying to see if he was choking up or not. She couldn't tell. "He….he really liked you." He patted Olivia on the arm and walked back inside, leaving Olivia awkwardly standing with a beer and a coffee in her hand. She quickly set the beer down on the edge of the flower bed they'd been sitting on and picked up her coffee. She was just taking a sip when she was surprised by Shawn's mother coming up on her side.

"Olivia?" the woman asked quietly.

Olivia jumped to her feet. "Oh, Mrs. Brocklen, hello. I'm so sorry for…" The woman silenced her with a wave. 

"Spare me the sympathies, I know you're probably hurting too…"

"But…" Olivia stammered.

"I just wanted to come say hello to the girl that had my boy in such a tizzy. You know after he met you, he stopped coming down here to visit so often."

"I'm so sorry…I didn't know he stopped visiting…I'm sor—"

She squeezed Olivia's leg and then grabbed her hand. "No, don't be sorry, honey, it made us so happy to know he was happy. He didn't need to keep visiting his old parents, he needed his own life."

Olivia was silent; she didn't know what to say. What do you say to your dead boyfriend's mother?

"I used to tease him sometimes, you know?" Mrs Brocklen said, eyes tearing up a little. "I used to joke that I wanted a daughter-in-law someday, someone I could harass and berate as was befitting my position and he used to laugh and say he was just waiting until he found one that was good enough to go toe-to-toe with me."

She paused for a minute and Olivia smiled at her, squeezing her hand back, but still was at a loss for words. After he met you, sometime last winter I think, he came down to visit for work and we went out to dinner and he said to me "Ma," she paused, her voice deepening to imitate her son. "Ma, I met this girl… and she can't cook, or clean house, or sew, or do anything else that you can do so well, but I swear Ma," he says, "she can argue with you toe-to-toe and she'll beat you at least half the time and then in the next sentence she'll make you laugh." Mrs. Brocklen started crying softly, quietly and Olivia just sat there holding her hand, at a complete loss for words, her eyes wide. "I just wanted to meet the girl who made my Shawn so happy these last few months."

Olivia swallowed deeply and said "It's good to meet you too, ma'am. And it's true, my apartments a mess and I can't cook an egg without ruining it." She gave the older woman's hand another squeeze as Mrs. Brocklen laughed through her tears.

She stood and Olivia stood with her. Mrs. Brocklen reached over and gave her a little hug and said "I did really want a daughter-in-law, and I wanted one that would fight back. I think you would've been just fine." And with that she turned and headed back towards her husband, who Olivia just now noticed had been watching the entire interaction, just close enough to overhear.

Olivia managed to wait until they'd walked far enough away and then walked as slowly as she could force herself into the house and up the stairs, running the last few steps, blowing past a surprised Jeff in the process. She made it into the guest room she'd stayed in before her tears started falling. Just when she thought she'd cried herself dry….

The Brocklens had left and the rest of the crowd was starting to disperse. Casey was scanning the crowd looking for Olivia, not finding her she walked inside and ran into her brother Jeff. "Hey," he said, "You looking for Olivia? I just saw her blow past me on the stairs. Go check on her, huh? She looked upset."

"Thanks," she said, and she headed upstairs.

She found Olivia in the spare room, bag packed, standing at the window with her fingers pushing on her eyes. "Liv? You okay?" she said standing at the door.

"Yeah, fine…I just needed a minute."

"Okay," Casey said, "I'll be downstairs. We'll leave for the city in an hour or so, kay?"

"Yeah, great."

An hour later they were saying their goodbyes, Casey got a hug from all her brothers. Olivia got one from Casey's mother and her brother Jeff, who'd taken a bit of a protective shine to her. Then they were in the car, headed up the interstate back to New York.

Having dropped off the rental car, they each grabbed a taxi to their respective apartments. 

"Thanks for making me go, Casey. You're right, it was hard, an unbelievably awkward, but I'm glad I went. And tell your parents thank you again."

"Of course, Liv."

"It was nice to meet your family too, explains some things about you." She raised an eyebrow at her friend, who threw a bottle of water at her.

"See you this week, huh?" Casey said, as she climbed into a cab. Olivia did the same.

Climbing out of the cab, Olivia had rarely been so glad to see her apartment building. The funeral, the weekend, the week, her life, was exhausting. Her normal senses a little dulled, she didn't notice a familiar car parked across the street.


	18. Chapter 18

Return and Continue On – Chapter 18

Knowing that she was due back sometime that evening, Elliot had been camped outside her apartment for an hour or so when he saw her climb out of the cab. He'd gotten a small studio apartment not far from the precinct where he slept since the divorce. He didn't do much else besides sleep there; he still went home to Queens for dinner with his kids most nights. They were trying to keep their life as normal as possible. His studio was small, quiet, and lonely and he didn't want to sit there by himself, didn't want to hang out in a bar or wander the streets. Without his family he was at loose ends after dinner.

He watched her climb out of the cab and look up at her building. He could see her sigh from across the street. He waited 10 minutes and then buzzed her apartment.

Upstairs, Olivia dumped her bag and flopped down on the couch. The minute she sat down she heard her buzzer go off, the repeated, persistent buzz that let her know it was Elliot. She sighed and dragged herself off the couch.

Hitting the speaker, she hollered "This better be good, Stabler," then hit the entrance button.

He bounded up the stairs two at a time and knocked on her door, holding a six back of beer. She stumbled towards the door and checked the peephole, then opened it, bleary eyed.

"Bored, Stabler?" she asked, turning and heading back towards the couch.

"How was Virginia?" he asked, handing her a beer and taking a seat on the couch next to her.

She shrugged but didn't say anything. She didn't really want to talk about it. She took a drink of beer instead.

"Talk to me, Olivia, keeping it inside isn't going to make it any easier."

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, pushing the ball of her palms into her eyes.

"I could've really been happy with him, Elliot."

"I know, Liv."

"No, no, you don't. I saw for just a brief moment, what my life could be like and now I am back here where I started. With nothing. Again. No one ever wanted me, Elliot. He did…they would have. It's like losing the things I never got to have hurts more than what I actually lost."

He reached over to place a hand on her shoulder and she shrugged him off.

"All those people there today, they all had someone, someone to lean on, someone to go home to. His mother…oh god, his mother…" She couldn't help it, she started to cry again, silent choking tears, the kind you cry at night when you don't want anyone else to hear.

He pulled her toward him into an embrace and she let him, less because she knew what he was doing and more because she was too upset to notice. He felt her shoulders shaking, so he knew she was crying, even though she made no sound. His hands snaked around her back, one hand grasping her shirt over her upper back, the other lower down, touching the bare skin over her lower back. It was warm and he could feel the gentle curve of her waist. As good as it made him feel, he felt guilty because he knew she had no idea. He couldn't decide if it was worse to let her go or to keep his hand where it had landed on her bare waist.

Her silent sobs finally slowed and he rubbed her back slowly, his thumb rubbing against her waist repetitively. His other hand held her tight, close to him. He could feel her shoulders shaking and feel her tears starting to soak through his t-shirt. Her hand gripped the back of his tshirt in a fist. She slowly became aware that he was holding her. He felt her tilt her forehead into his shoulder and just sit there, pulling back a little. He realized his hand was still on her lower back, his fingers pressed into the tanned skin. He felt the heat of her back on the underside of his wrist. He panicked for a moment, wondering if he should move his hand. He didn't want her to think he was trying to make a move.

She felt the change in his posture and pulled away from him, bringing her face immediately into her hands. "I'm so sorry, Elliot." She wiped her face and nose, trying to make herself look somewhat respectable. "I'm a mess."

"Olivia, after the week you've had, I would be more concerned if you looked 100% put together all the time." Elliot put both his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Sit here for a minute." He got up and walked towards the bathroom. He looked over his shoulder at his partner, and for once in her life, she had listened to him. She was still sitting on the couch in the exact position that he had left her. He was glad she had listened but at the same time, the lack of response made him realize exactly what a bad time she was having.

He hesitantly entered into her bathroom, searching the small linen closet. Finding a clean washcloth, he wet it down with cold water and wrung it out. Fumbling for two Tylenol from the medicine cabinet, he caught a glance at her bedroom. It looked like a disaster area, the bed was unmade, clothes strewn about, some on hangers, some in piles. He grabbed what he had come for and headed back into the living room. Olivia was still sitting on the couch, facing slightly to the side, both feet on the floor, in the exact position he had left her. He did notice that she had picked up a picture frame that had been sitting on the small table next to the sofa. When she heard him reenter the room, she quickly put the frame back on the table, but face down.

He handed her the washcloth and the Tylenol. She looked up at him like he was crazy. "Take the Tylenol, Liv. A crying jag like that exhausts your body, you'll be sore. The washcloth is for your face. And don't look at me like I'm nuts. I live with 4 women. Someone in my house had a breakdown at least twice a week and none of them have ever cried over something like...like this." She tossed the pills into her mouth and swallowed them without water then pressed the washcloth to her face. She groaned and leaned back into the sofa.

'Damn, but Elliot was right,' she thought. Her whole body ached and the cool damp of the washcloth felt like heaven on her flushed, salty face.

She could hear him fumbling around in her kitchen and vaguely wondered what he was doing, but didn't really care. A few minutes later she felt him come back into the room and sit down on the sofa next to her. She lifted the washcloth off her face and looked at him.

"You have absolutely no food. I was going to make you soup but you are going to have to settle for tea. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head. He looked at her, taking in her puffy, red eyes, defeated shoulders. He wanted to take her into his arms and make the whole world stop hurting her, like he had when his girls were little and he was invincible and able to cure all their childhood problems. He also knew her well enough to know that there was no way in hell she would let him comfort her. She'd let him see her cry twice in 10 years, all within the last week. He knew anything else would be pushing it. She sat without moving again, as if in a stupor. He didn't say anything. Finally she leaned forward and took a sip of the tea. Elliot eyed her suspiciously; she still had that stunned look he'd seen too many times in his career. She continued to sip the tea, but without taking much interest in it. Olivia let out a deep sigh.

"Olivia..." Elliot began.

At the same time, Olivia said, "El, I think I'm going to go to bed. Thanks for stopping by. And for the tea." She gave him a small smile and stood up. He stood up next to her, but didn't head towards the doorway.

"Are you going to sleep?" he asked.

"Not a chance. But I am going to lay down in the dark and maybe that will feel better than this," she replied bluntly, almost disparagingly, as if she knew nothing was going to make her feel better.

"You want me to stay?" he offered, hoping that she would accept his offer, but knowing that if she did it was either because she was really that desperate or she so bad off she didn't know what she was doing.

"Stay?" she repeated. "No," she scoffed. "Don't be silly. Thanks for the tea. I'll see you tomorrow." She headed into the bedroom and closed the door, obviously meaning for him to let himself out. He listened carefully and heard the water running in the bathroom, he heard the floor boards squeak and then nothing. He waited another few minutes and then let himself out.

At the precinct the next morning, Elliot arrived with two large coffees in his hands. He set one down on his partner's desk, glad that he had beaten her into work. Maybe it meant she had gotten some sleep after all.

Munch walked over to him and handed him a couple of files. "ME's waiting for you guys to run through the new case. Picked her up last night down on 36th Street." Elliot nodded at him and began to flip through the file. "How's your partner?" he asked.

"Not great, last I saw her. I'm surprised I beat her in. I was expecting her to be here first thing, didn't think she was going to sleep much, ya know?"

"Yeah...Well, you didn't beat her here. She was here when I got in this morning. She's in Cragen's office."

"She okay?" Elliot asked.

"Looked about like what I expected," Munch replied.

Olivia felt like she hadn't slept at all. She thought she probably dozed off a couple of times, but she knew she had looked at the clock at least twice an hour. She'd finally got herself up around 530am. She'd wandered around her apartment, turning the few picture frames that held photos of Shawn on their face so she didn't have to look at them. She showered, taking her time. She glanced around the bedroom noting the disaster she had left it in. Half her wardrobe was on the floor where she had tossed it after trying to figure out what to bring with her to Washington that weekend. She didn't have the energy to pick it up today. It'd already been three days, one more day wasn't going to make a difference. At 6:15 she allowed herself to leave for work, choosing to walk the few blocks in the crisp air. She was the only one there when she arrived. The relief she felt when she saw the quiet room was blissful. 'Must've been a quiet night, even Cragen wasn't in yet,' she thought. She'd grabbed a couple of files stacked on her desk and began reading them. Around 6:45am she saw the light go on in the Captain's office; he'd come in through the side door. Munch arrived at 7am, asking her how she was doing, but not hovering or giving her a hard time for being at work so early, for which she was grateful. When Cragen saw her, he asked her to step into his office. She realized that the squadroom was gaining it's usual buzz. She stood slowly, stretching her muscles, which were indeed a touch stiff from the tension of the weekend and the crying jag, which the sleepless night didn't help.

She entered her Captain's office tentatively. "Sit down, Olivia," he said, firmly, but not unkindly. If she was a different type of woman he would have offered her condolences and words of sympathy. He looked her over silently for a moment. She was pale, her dark eyes seemed bigger and a little shell-shocked. "How're you holding up?" he asked. "And don't give me the bullshit, huh?"

"Uh, I'm hanging in there," she said as she ran her fingers through her hair, giving a little shrug.

"You sleeping at all?" he asked.

"Not much," she answered honestly.

Cragen didn't say anything back, but came around the desk and leaned back against it. "Keep your head above water and I won't force you to take leave, but the minute you want to, just ask, understand?" he told her.

"Yeah, okay," she responded, standing. "Is that it?"

"No." He took a step towards her. "Olivia, I've been where you are. There is nothing that will make it better right now. Just..." he fumbled, trying to give her some words that she would both mean something and that she wouldn't just discount immediately as contrived sympathy. 'Be concrete' he told himself. "Remember to eat something, and lean on your friends when you need them." He gave her a small pat on the shoulder. She rewarded him with a small smile.

Elliot saw her exiting his boss's office. She looked pale and tired, but not completely shaken. "Hey," he greeted her as she approached her desk. "How you doing?"

"Fine, El, thanks," she brushed him off. She couldn't have him worrying constantly about her. It was bad enough that he'd seen her cry. Cops don't cry. Especially female cops, not if they wanted to keep the respect of their colleagues and she ESPECIALLY didn't cry, not in front of anybody. She had to make him believe she could do her job. If she lost that, if she lost him, she'd truly have nothing. He'd once said to her that the partnership was all he had left, but it wasn't true. He had his family, his children, siblings, his mother, even if she was unstable. She truly had nothing now, except for her job and her partner. The thought of that made her stomach clench, she pulled herself together from the inside out.

Elliot had been watching her closely. He saw emotion on her face and then saw her turn it off, as if it was a switch, saw her straighten her shoulders and then meet him in the eye. She glanced at her desk. "This coffee for me?" she asked, already picking it up. "Thanks."

"Anytime," he replied, "So apparently the ME's waiting for us, new case popped up in an alley on West 36th St. Up for it?"

"Let's go," she said, grabbing her coat.

As they walked towards the sedan, he asked "You eaten anything today? Wanna stop and grab something?" He didn't wait for her to answer, guessing that the answer would be no.

She shook her head, "No, thanks," she said blandly, "The coffee's fine, thanks."

"You sure? I didn't get breakfast, I'm going to stop and grab an egg sandwich."

"Yeah, I'm sure." The thought of food made her stomach turn, she was barely stomaching the coffee, forcing it down because she knew she'd probably collapse without the caffeine.

He pulled up next to a vendor on 9th Avenue that he thought would be selling the egg sandwiches and threw the car into park. He jumped out, leaving Olivia sitting in the passenger seat. 'Kid gloves,' she thought, 'he was treating her with kid gloves.' On a regular day he would make her get out to get the food, claiming he was driving and need to be able to move if traffic backed up.

Five minutes later he was climbing back into the driver's seat, a sandwich in one hand. He tossed a second sandwich in a brown paper bag into her lap. He had eaten half of his sandwich before they'd pulled into traffic. "That one's for you," he said. "Eat it."

"Elliot, I said I wasn't hungry." She hadn't touched the bag.

"Eat it anyway, it's going to be a long day," he argued.

Remember what Cragen had said to her earlier, she opened the bag and took out the sandwich, inspecting the roll with a fried egg, cheese and ketchup on it, just as she liked it. She appreciated what Cragen had said to her, remembering that he had lost his wife of many years right before he had joined the unit. What she was going through wasn't even comparable, she knew that, but she still appreciated his kind words and the way he didn't beat around the bush. She took a small bite, knowing Elliot was watching her. She truly wasn't hungry; she had absolutely no interest in the sandwich. When the pulled up to the ME's office, she rewrapped the sandwich and put it back in the bag.

A couple of hours later they were back at the precinct. Someone ordered sandwiches, which they were all eating as they briefed the others on the latest case. Andrea Birtem was 19, found in an alley, beaten over the head, bruises on her neck in the shape of fingerprints, likely raped. The detectives ate their sandwiches looking at the images closely, not even slightly bothered by the violent and grisly pictures. They were long used to eating under tough circumstances. Olivia reviewed what they'd found out at the morgue for the others and sat back down. She hadn't eaten much of the chicken salad sandwich she'd ordered, but she had picked out some of the chicken, leaving the rest a mess on her desk. The rest of the day passed slowly by. Olivia felt like all she wanted to do was go home and sleep, but when the time came to leave for the night, she found herself looking for excuses to stay. Elliot and Munch were long gone, having both tried and failed to get her to leave with them. As Fin was grabbing his coat, he looked over and saw his colleague, his friend, hunched over her desk. She had been reading off a pile of papers, but he could tell she wasn't any longer. Her gaze was unfocused; her pen was still. He grabbed her coat as well and walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's go, Benson, time's up."

She flinched at his touch and he immediately felt guilty. He handed her the coat and scarf. "Time to go," he repeated. "We're the last one's here."

"You go, I'm just going to finish-"

He cut her off. "You really think I'm just going to leave you here?"

"I don't need a babysitter, Fin," she bristled at his comment.

"Of course you don't, but you also don't need to spend the night in a dark police station by yourself. There's no pressing cases, we spend enough nights here as it is..."

Accepting defeat, she pulled on her coat. "You wanna ride?" he asked her. "We can split a cab."

"No, no thanks. I think I'll walk, clear my head, ya know."

"Yeah, okay," he said, and he watched her pull the scarf a little closer around her and walk down the street.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Four weeks later, Olivia felt like she was still going through the motions. She slept fitfully, got up, went to work, came home and repeated the whole thing the next day. As long as she didn't think too much about everything, she could get through the day. She walked on eggshells around Elliot, careful not to show any cracks.

As for Elliot, he felt like he was seeing a ghost of the Olivia he had once known. She said all the same things, acted in all the right ways, but something was different. Her posture was less. Her personality was less. She was just LESS than she had been, as if shaded in pastels instead of her usual bright colors. She never took a wrong step, never said anything to make him look twice at her. It was driving him nuts. He knew she wasn't eating and he doubted she'd been sleeping. She always was at work before him, sipping on a coffee in the largest size possible. She always refused food, only eating if he forced it on her and then she ate without enjoyment, as if it was a punishment. He could see that she was losing weight. He knew he wasn't the only one who noticed the changes either. He hadn't been inside her apartment recently, and he had this image of nothing changing since he'd last been inside, when he'd seen all the clothes on the floor of her bedroom and the picture frame on it's face.

Cragen had pulled him into his office yesterday afternoon and asked him about her. "I don't like what I'm seeing, but she hasn't given me any reason to do or say anything about it. Her record's been spotless, her paperwork immaculate but you and I both know she's not dealing with this well," he'd said.

"Honestly, Cap, I don't think she's dealing with it at all," Elliot had responded.

"Talk to her, huh?" he'd asked.

"I've been trying, she won't. Shuts me down every time. She won't talk to Casey either, although I think she tells her more than she tells me. Casey said she invited her down to Virginia later this month and Olivia refused."

Cragen shook his head. "Officially I can't do anything until she gives me a reason to. Think she'll talk to someone?"

"You mean a shrink? No chance in hell," Elliot said.

Cragen nodded. They'd just have to keep an eye on her. The two men looked out at the bullpen at their colleague and friend. She was opening an envelope that had been delivered to her. She leaned on one leg, the other crossed in front of her, leaning up against her desk. Elliot noticed her service revolver holstered on her belt. Her pants were loose, pulled down by the weight of the gun. He could see her hip bone. He couldn't help but imagine what the rest of her looked like...if she'd lost her curves? If the dimples that sat right above her pant line were more obvious? His eyes moved up, taking in the rest of her. Her collarbones were prominent. Her eyes looked a little sunken as she looked at the contents of the envelope. She didn't look happy about whatever it was.

She was shoving everything back inside the envelope as Elliot got back to his desk. Time to take off the kid gloves he thought. If he had known Olivia had thought the same phrase several weeks earlier he would have gotten a kick out of it. "What's in the envelope? You get another parking ticket?" he half-joked.

"What?" she practically jumped. "No, it's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing. Looks like something you'd rather forget all about." He wasn't going to let her drop it. If she wanted to keep herself at arms length, he was going to make her work for it.

"It is something I'd rather forget about, so let's forget about it, huh?" she retorted, shooting him a look. Elliot was thrilled. It'd been a long time since he'd done anything to her that warranted a look like that. A few minutes later, she grabbed the envelope and walked towards the clerk who sat at the desk in the hallway, directing visitors. He had worked there for years and she knew him, as she knew everyone who worked at the station. Elliot saw her say a few words to him and him respond, then she handed him the envelope. He grabbed her hand, grinning, it looked like he was thanking her. The man immediately grabbed his phone and made a phone call.

Olivia walked back to her desk and plopped down in her chair. She glanced at her watch. Two more hours before she could escape back to the silence of her apartment. "What was that about?" Elliot asked her. He was definitely curious now. She sighed. "I said I didn't want to talk about it."

"No, you said forget it. I can't forget it. Tell me, huh?" He was pushing her buttons on purpose and she knew it.

She didn't say anything but gave him a LOOK that clearly meant 'I am not going to cave to your harassment.' But then she relented and said "It was theater tickets. We had theater tickets."

Elliot had a confused look on his face. "You and Dave the desk clerk had theater tickets?"

She sighed. "No. Shawn..." Her voice broke when she said his name and she swore internally at her partner. "Shawn and I. Got them months ago for this Friday. I gave them to Dave, his anniversary is next week. 19 years." She said all this with her head down, not making eye contact with him. Maybe if she just ignored him, played it off as no big deal, he would leave her alone.

Elliot just looked at her. He didn't say anything and eventually Olivia looked up to see if he was still there. "That was really nice of you," he said when she did. She shrugged and went to the file room.

He hated the cold shoulder she was giving him. Unfortunately he was familiar with it, but he'd never figured out the right way to counteract it. It was her primary defense mechanism. Whenever she felt vulnerable, she'd close herself off.

Olivia had searched for a few minutes in the file room and then realized she had totally zoned out, she had been flipped through the cabinets automatically, not even looking at the file names. Trying to rub the tension out of her neck, she made a split second decision. Heading towards the locker room, she changed into some workout clothes she had stashed in her locker and headed for the small gym.

She'd been pounding the punching bag for 30 minutes when Elliot found her. She was facing away from him, swinging hard at the bag. Her hair was clipped back messily; it really wasn't long enough to tie into a proper pony tail and the loose strips stuck to her face with sweat. The back of her neck was bare except for the hair plastered to it, She wore a black sports bra and a white wife-beater tank top that looked like it had seen better days. Both were soaked through with sweat. She continued to hit the bag and Elliot took in the cut of her scapula through her wet shirt. The muscles in her arms looked sharp as they swung forward again and again. Her sweat pants hung low on her hips and he could see the gleam of sweat on her back in the space between her pants and where her shirt had ridden up. Where before she'd been rather thin but with curves, now she was all muscle. She still looked like a woman, there was no way she could change that, but she wasn't soft, she was hard and fierce. If he hadn't known her, he would have been terrified by her.

After watching her for a few minutes and realizing that she had no idea he was there and also that she was showing no sign of slowing down, he called "Olivia!" She didn't hear him. Not wanting to surprise her by coming up behind her and taking one in the face for his troubles, he skirted the outside of the room until he was standing to her side and called again. That time she heard him. She didn't break her rhythm, but said breathlessly, "What'yu need Stabler, I'm in the middle of something here."

"I came to get you. Cap's sending us home, says there's nothing more to do until we get the results back from the lab, paperwork can wait. Technically that wasn't true, Cragen wasn't sending them home, but Elliot knew if he could get Olivia out of the precinct on time for once, Cragen would appreciate the little white lie.

"Okay, I'll go when I'm done here," she replied, still not breaking her rhythm.

Elliot could see her muscles quivering; she was running on empty. "You look close to done, come now." She gave another two hits a little harder for emphasis. Elliot didn't say anything, but stepped around and held the bag for her. Not expecting the change in resistance, she faltered a little bit and missed a punch. She stepped sideways to keep from falling over and gave Elliot a dirty look where he stood behind the bag. She walked over to the wall and grabbed a bottle of water and chugged half of it down. He clothes were stuck to her with sweat, leaving very little to the imagination. She was still panting. He could see her chest rise as fall, his eyes were drawn unbidden towards her cleavage, the wet sports bra did nothing but enhance it. The tank top was so threadbare she might as well not have bothered. She toweled herself off and then eyed her partner as she polished off the rest of the water. He hadn't said anything else. He was still a little bit startled by her physical appearance. It's not that he hadn't ever appreciated Olivia's appearance, oh, he definitely had. But this was like seeing an old friend after many years and discovering they'd changed, but she'd done it right in front of him and he hadn't noticed. He remembered the last time he'd seen her with as few clothes on, the night he'd been undercover and they'd almost been found out. That image had resurfaced unwelcome a time or two. It didn't seem possible that this was the same soft and curvy woman. He found himself wishing she still had those curves; he'd have appreciated that view more.

"What?" she said suspiciously.

"Uh..." She brought him back to reality all of a sudden. He had to think of something quick. She had picked up a leg and bent it against the wall to tie a shoelace, causing her pants to pull tight around her backside. He noticed that her leg was still quivering and choosing to focus on that instead of his 'still very off-limits' partner's ass, he said "You're shaking, Liv. What were you doing up here?"

"It's easier to sleep," she said. Elliot looked at her confused at the non-sequitor. "If I'm exhausted," she repeated, "It's easier to sleep." She avoided looking at him for a minute and then when he didn't reply she glanced up to find him staring at her with a strange look on his face.

"Now what?" she demanded.

"Go get showered, we can grab some dinner," he said.

Olivia was shaking her head before he finished the sentence. "Nah, I'm okay. I'll shower and then head out. Go ahead."

He tried again. "We can go to the Thai place near your apartment. There's...there's no one at my place and it's kind of quiet on these early nights, ya know?" It was true, Elliot didn't really care for the quiet nights in his new apartment. After more than 20 years of marriage it was taking him a while to adjust to singlehood. That wasn't the real reason he wanted to get her to go to eat with him, but he thought it was the one most likely to work. Olivia wouldn't do anything for herself, but she would sacrifice everything to help others. Olivia looked at him for a minute and Elliot thought for a minute that she didn't believe him, but then she said "Yeah, okay. Give me 10. I'll meet you downstairs."

He watched her walk towards the locker room, pulling off the tank top as she went. She had basically ignored him after she said she'd meet him downstairs, moving as if in a fog. She was never self-conscious, but she had always been modest. There was nothing modest about her now as she pulled the shirt over her head. She just didn't care. He stared at her agape as she walked. Her hips swung in a way he had never noticed before, he could see the outline of every muscle in her back and arms, could practically count her ribs. He saw her abdominals contract as she pushed the door and he could practically count those as well. He was entranced by the dramatic curve of her waist and the way her muscles tapered on her back. Her breasts were high and round and they stood out dramatically as the only soft part of her otherwise hard, imposing figure. The door slammed behind her and it shook him out of his stupor. He rubbed his chin with one hand. 'When the hell had that happened?' He didn't know what was worse: that in her grief his partner was imposing such dramatic physical changes on herself or the fact that he was impossibly, undeniably, attracted to his partner.

He got his bearings and headed back downstairs to the squadroom, finding the other detectives at their desks, but not working very hard. "Hey guys," he said. "Do me a favor and cut out early tonight. I told Olivia Cragen was sending us all home. I'm trying to get her to go get some food with me."

Understanding immediately where he was coming from, and willing to take off with just a little encouragement, the other detectives were shutting down computers and grabbing their things when Olivia came jogging down the stairs. She had showered and had stopped by the file room, finally finding the information she'd gone in there for in the first place.

She placed it on her desk and looked at Elliot, who had grabbed his coat and placed hers on her chair. "Ready?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied, non-committally.

Fifteen minutes later they were seated in the back corner of the small Thai restaurant. He ordered the Green Curry and she ordered the Pad Thai.

"So how're the kids?" she asked, trying to break the awkward silence. It worked a few minutes, he always enjoyed talking about his kids and she liked hearing about them. The conversation slowed and he watched her pick at the noodles.

"How long are you going to do this, Olivia?" he asked bluntly.

"Do what?" she asked, immediately defensive.

"Walk around like you're a ghost," he said.

"I'm not. What are you talking about?" she rebutted.

He sighed and looked down at the food. "Something wrong with your dinner?" he asked.

"No, it's fine," she replied. "Just not that hungry."

Elliot sighed again. "Olivia, I saw you play with your lunch for an hour today and not eat hardly any of it. Plus you just burned off at least 500 calories at the gym. How in the world are you not hungry?"

"I'm just NOT, okay?" she replied, pushing the plate away from her a little.

"Does this have anything to do with Shawn?" he asked bluntly. He knew it did, he just didn't know if she would admit it.

"What does THAT mean?" she demanded.

"The not eating, the workouts. Come on, Liv, everyone can see you've lost weight. I bet you're not sleeping either, you practically admitted it earlier." He threw it in her face; beating around the bush was obviously not going to get anywhere.

"I'm not eating because I'm not hungry and the work outs, I told you, it makes it easier to sleep when I'm tired." She knew it was an answer that wasn't really an answer. She was clenching her jaw, visibly tense, he could tell.

Elliot sighed again. He wasn't trying to make her mad, but was doing a pretty good job of it. "You don't have to think of your food as a punishment, Olivia," he said.

"I don't," she replied, a tone to her voice that made her sound like she was surprised at that accusation. He knew her well enough to know that she was faking it. 'Now we're getting somewhere he thought.'

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't try to shrink me, Stabler," she demanded.

"Tell me this doesn't have anything to do with Shawn. I remember when you met. I asked you what you liked about him and you said 'he feeds me.' You were just back from Oregon and told me yourself you were hungry all the time. He took you out to eat. You really trying to tell me the fact that your stomach turns every time you try to eat something has nothing to do with that? That you don't feel guilty every time you try to eat?" He looked at her intently. She had almost shrunken into the booth and he immediately felt guilty for pushing her.

"I don't feel guilty," she said softly.

"Then at least admit that you're at least sad, if not depressed!" he demanded.

"Sad! Of course I'm SAD, Elliot. Come on! I just..." She stopped, was unconsciously seeing if he would let it drop. He was looking at her intently, telling her with his eyes that he had no intention of letting her off the hook. Seeing this she went on "I just...I get hungry and I get some food and then when I try and eat it, I can't help but remember and then I just lose my appetite. I want to eat it, but it just tastes like cardboard." She was kind of on a roll now. He didn't interrupt her but let her thoughts and voice wander. "When we first met, I was hungry all the time and now every time I eat I associate it with how happy I was with him and then I remember and I just...I just can't. God...If I had any idea how much Oregon would have fucked me up I never would have gone." She bent her head and ran both hands through her hair, still damp from the shower.

"You can't keep this up, Liv. I could practically count your ribs earlier; your clothes are loose. It's not sustainable. I know you lost him, but don't lose yourself too. I still need my partner, huh?" Again, it was the right thing to say. Olivia wouldn't, or couldn't, eat for herself, but she would do everything in her power to force herself for another person.

She sighed in response and took another bite of the pad thai. And then another.

Satisfied, he reached for his beer and relaxed a little. "You know, you used to complain about how much you liked that stuff, said it had too many calories, 'your whole days worth of calories,' remember?"

She snorted. "Yeah, now that's the least of my worries," she said sardonically. She dug her fork into the noodles and looked at it long and hard before putting it in her mouth.

The difficult conversation had opened the doors a little bit, allowing them to joke and talk about the day's events like they had in the past. Another 20 minutes and Olivia had managed to suffer through maybe half of the food on her plate. It was probably more than she had eaten in one sitting in over a month and her stomach was uncomfortably full. The stood and walked the few short blocks back to Olivia's apartment. He followed her upstairs without her asking and she let him, without asking why. Inside they both stripped off their coats, Elliot draped his over one of the bar stools, Olivia hung her's in the hall closet. He watched her move about, noticing her sweater. He remembered that sweater. It was blue and he had given her a hard time about how everything in her wardrobe was blue, purple or black. It used to fit her snugly, perfectly, like a glove. Now it was loose around the shoulders and the extra fabric wrinkled softly about her waist. She was no gentle wallflower wasting away, but he didn't like what this was doing to her. He glanced about her apartment, catching a brief view of the bedroom through the open door. He was relieved to see that the mess he'd seen last time he'd been in her apartment had been cleaned up. He'd had a genuine fear of her letting everything in her apartment lapse. Another quick glance allowed him to see the photo frames face down. He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, telling himself he needed some water. He noted that there still wasn't any food, but that wasn't any new behavior. His heart jumped when he thought he saw the mug of tea he'd given her that night still sitting in the sink, but then he realized that it was similar looking mug with the remains of the morning's coffee. In the fridge he found a cold 6-pack with one beer missing. Thinking that at least she wasn't drowning her sorrows in booze, he leaned in and grabbed two beers. Standing upright he saw her looking at him with a smirk on her face.

"Find everything satisfactory, Stabler?" she said. "I haven't gone off the deep-end, you know. You can stop worrying."

"Sorry, I uh...I just was looking for a drink," he fumbled, lifting the beers as a sort of explanation.

She took one from him, saying "No you weren't. You were checking out my apartment to make sure I hadn't totally lost my shit." She took a long swig of the beer. It went down easier than she was expecting. "It's alright. I guess I've given you some reason to think I'm crazy, huh?"

"No, you haven't...That's just it. You've been acting totally normal and it's freaking us all out."

"Well, it's how I cope. Push it all deep down inside where no one can see it. Works like a charm, doesn't it?" The comment was biting, and self-derogatory. She sat on the couch and he sat down next to her. They sipped their beers in companionable silence. She heard her phone buzz and she set her beer down to go investigate. He turned on the television and flipped through the channels, keeping the noise down low. She silenced her phone and sat back down on the couch. She had her head resting on her hand, leaning on the armrest, her feet tucked under her. A minute later he turned towards her to make some comment about something on the television and saw that she was fast asleep.

He stared at her in surprise. Her mouth was slightly open and her breath caught every once in a while. It didn't look like a particularly restful sleep and he knew that had less to do with her position and more to do with everything else. He didn't want her to sleep like that but didn't have the heart to wake her. He also knew she would be embarrassed when she woke and found out she'd been sleeping. He decided to give her a few minutes to see if she would solve the dilemma for him. He watched her chest rise and fall for a few more minutes, then turned his attention back to the tv, stealing glances at her every 30 seconds or so. After 15 minutes or so he saw her jerk out of the corner of his eye. She gasped and sat up straight. He felt his pulse rise and he turned to look at her.

"Uh, sorry, I guess I dozed off. The food and the beer..." she trailed off.

"No big deal." He tried to downplay it to make her feel less self-conscious. "If you want to sleep, sleep. But lay down or something, you make my neck hurt just looking at you." He turned his attention falsely back towards the television, wondering if she would bite. She did. She grabbed the throw pillow, shoved it up against the armrest and curled up on her side. A few minutes later he looked back and she was asleep again.

He watched her sleep again and sighed, irritated with himself. If all it was going to take to get her to talk, sleep and eat was what he did tonight, he was an ass for not doing any sooner. He'd watched her suffer and had done nothing. He let her sleep on the couch for a couple of hours and by the time the movie was over his own body was aching for bed. He stood and stretched and looked over at the slumbering figure. She'd knock him in the face if he tried to pick her up, and he'd seen the way she beat the bloody hell out of the punching bag earlier. He knelt next to her and pulled her into a sitting position. She fought him for a minute until she realized who he was. Foggy headed she mumbled something unintelligible to him. He held her shoulders and pulled her to standing, wondering again how the strong and muscular woman he'd seen earlier could feel so fragile in his arms. "Come on," he said. "To bed with you." He marched her toward the bedroom and she stumbled towards the bed. He waited until she was in the bed, still in her clothes, but he figured she didn't care. He hit the light and let himself out of her apartment, hoping that he might have done her some good. She certainly deserved it.


	19. Chapter 19

_He watched her sleep again and sighed, irritated with himself. If all it was going to take to get her to talk, sleep and eat was what he did tonight, he was an ass for not doing any sooner. He'd watched her suffer and had done nothing. He let her sleep on the couch for a couple of hours and by the time the movie was over his own body was aching for bed. He stood and stretched and looked over at the slumbering figure. She'd knock him in the face if he tried to pick her up, and he'd seen the way she beat the bloody hell out of the punching bag earlier. He knelt next to her and pulled her into a sitting position. She fought him for a minute until she realized who he was. Foggy headed she mumbled something unintelligible to him. He held her shoulders and pulled her to standing, wondering again how the strong and muscular woman he'd seen earlier could feel so fragile in his arms. "Come on," he said. "To bed with you." He marched her toward the bedroom and she stumbled towards the bed. He waited until she was in the bed, still in her clothes, but he figured she didn't care. He hit the light and let himself out of her apartment, hoping that he might have done her some good. She certainly deserved it. _

CHAPTER 19

Two days later Maureen and Kathleen had stopped by the station to talk to their father. He directed them up to the loft to wait while he finished up the impromptu meeting that Cragen was leading in the middle of the room. Immediately after the meeting broke up, Elliot jogged up the stairs towards his daughters. Resolving easily the issue that had gotten them all worked up, he directed them down the stairs when Kathleen stopped on the first step. Looking down into the bullpen, she asked "Dad, what's wrong with Olivia?"

"What do you mean 'what's wrong with her?'" he replied, following her gaze. Olivia was standing in front on her desk, reading a paper. She was chewing on the end of a pen. She had a non-descript look on her face, but Elliot knew immediately what Kathleen was talking about. He hadn't really noticed it before, seeing her every day, but to the girls, it was a shocking change. She was thin, her normally put together figure looked somehow disheveled, but there wasn't anything he could pinpoint. He finally realized it was because her clothes had an ill-fitting look to them. She looked sad, dejected, as if she was being forced to live her life against her will. Elliot sighed and rubbed his hand over his face.

"She's sad, baby," he said.

"Because her friend died? That is so unfair. Why did it have to happen to him? Wasn't it her turn?" Maureen asked, looking down at the first floor.

"Things are rarely fair, Maureen. It's been pretty hard on her, but she'll be okay, she's tough," Elliot said, hoping his words were the correct one's to comfort his daughters, and maybe himself.

"She does look really sad," Kathleen agreed. "Dad, you could make her happy. You should work on that." And she tripped lightly down the stairs, followed by Maureen.

"Out of the mouths of babes," Elliot muttered, wondering to himself exactly how he was going to do that. It didn't strike him until later that he didn't even realize that he had already decided to do so. He wondered when he had. His mind wandered back to the night he had interrupted her in the gym. He pictured her curves, less than they were, but still there, glistening with sweat and had to shake his head to clear the image. 'Get a grip, Stabler!' he told himself. 'This is Olivia you're thinking about, you can't do THAT with your partner. You'll get both of you killed.' It was definitely not the first, nor the last time he'd have that conversation with himself that week.

The days came and went, with Olivia sailing through her life as if in a fog, and Elliot trying to pretend that nothing had changed between him and his partner. She didn't push his buttons on purpose anymore, and he was careful not to pry too much into her personal life, or lack thereof. It was mostly because he was now afraid of opening the channels of intimacy. With his newly realized attraction, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to keep the lines from blurring.

He still hadn't figured out what he was going to do about Olivia, or really, if he was honest with himself, how was he was going to make her happy. That Friday evening he was having all his kids over for dinner, the younger ones were staying and the older girls would go back to their own apartments. On Thursday he made a quick call to Maureen to get her opinion and then to his old house in Queens to talk to Dickie and Lizzie.

Friday afternoon was thankfully quiet. They were wrapping up at a little after 6pm when Elliot cornered Olivia at her locker.

"Got plans tonight?" he asked her. She stopped shoving things into her locker and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She looked at him quizzically.

She wondered what he was up to. He knew she didn't have plans; she never did these days.

He looked back at her, taking in the somewhat surprised and dazed look in her brown eyes. They almost looked pained at the question and he kicked himself for not asking in a more sympathetic manner. Before she could reply, he said, "Come over for dinner. The kids are coming over, we're making pizzas."

"Ah…I dunno, El. They need their time with you, I don't want to intrude…" she stumbled back.

"Nah, they'll be glad to see you. Besides, I could use the back-up." He grinned at her, trying to convince her.

"Come on…It'll be fun. Be there at 7…" he said, as he slammed his locker. He turned to leave before she could protest further.

She stood with her mouth opening and closing in front of the lockers. Munch walked past her and made some comment about catching flies, but then stopped and asked if she was okay. She stammered something about being fine and turned and headed home herself.

Letting herself into her apartment, she tossed her coat and bag onto the counter. She glanced at her watch, it was almost 6:30.

She swore under her breath. What was Stabler playing at? She was much more content at home in her apartment. Alone. Pulling off her work clothes, she slid into a pair of jeans and a pink t-shirt. She glanced at her watch one last time, figuring she had at least enough time to stop by the market if she took a cab instead of the subway.

At 5 past 7pm she was knocking on Elliot's door. When there wasn't an immediate response she thought for a minute she could leave and not have to spend the evening with the Stablers. Just as she was trying to decide how hard she needed to try to get them to answer the door, the door swung open to reveal a giggling Lizzie Stabler.

"Hi Olivia!" she squealed, hugging the surprised detective firmly and then pulling her inside the small apartment. She had flour on her cheek and shirt and as Olivia entered the apartment she saw " saw Dickie, hands covered in pizza dough chasing his sisters. Music was coming from someone's ipod in the corner. Elliot stood in the kitchen not doing much of anything but watching the chaos with a slightly amused look on his face.

She got a chorus of hellos from the others as she stepped into the small kitchen. "Welcome," Elliot said drying. "We were making pizza. Things got a little out of hand." He shrugged as if either he didn't know how to control things, which she doubted, or didn't really care, which she suspected was more of the truth.

"Uh..I brought some vegetables," she said, gesturing to the grocery bag in her hand. "And some wine, for the adults," she said needlessly, and awkwardly.

"Great! We could use the vegetables. I already got a lecture because all

I bought was cheese and pepperoni." Elliot spoke with enthusiasm and

Olivia looked at him suspiciously.

"What are you playing at here, Stabler?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently.

"What are you trying to do here? Inviting me over into the chaos? I know how you need the time with your family, you don't need me to..."Her protests were cut off by him.

"Hey, you needed this...something," he said.

"But I..." She was cut off again.

"Look, my family is important, yes, but so are you. And you need this,

Liv. You need to make some new memories," he said, handing her a bell pepper from the bag. "So start chopping."

"New memories? What are you talking about?" she asked, completely confused. She might not have remembered at their dinner a couple of weeks before when she told Elliot about why she didn't like to eat, but he remembered and it had been bothering him ever since. He tried not to show it, but he watched her like a hawk at work, making sure she ate at least a little bit of something.

"You know, new memories," he said, "so that now when you think of pizza, you won't think of the last time you and Shawn split a pie, you'll think about how I forced you to come here and make pizza and you got flour all over your uh...front." He gestured with the cheese he was holding towards her. She looked down and noted in horror that the front of her t-shirt, in a quite revealing pattern, was covered in flour from when Lizzie had hugged her.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, as she futilely tried to brush the flour off her shirt. She mostly succeeded in smearing it around, but at least it wasn't highlighting her chest any longer. Elliot stood in the kitchen smirking at her. "How long were you going to let me walk around like that?" she asked.

Elliot just shrugged and smiled and hollered for Dickie to come back into the kitchen and finish what he started.

Shortly thereafter everyone was enjoying their pizza, the adults their wine, and everyone the bad movie on the television. Olivia glanced over and saw the disaster area the kitchen had been turned into. Seeing an excuse to be up and moving and not thinking about things, she excused herself to the bathroom and then on the way back settled herself into the kitchen, cleaning at least a portion of the mess. While no one noticed her absence at first, after a few minutes Dickie came wandering into the kitchen. He fumbled a bit with his glass of soda, taking a very long time to refill it. Olivia could feel him watching her, but pretended to be involved in the dishes she was washing. Dickie was trying to observe his father's partner without being too obvious. He'd heard what had happened to her friend and heard his sister's talking about how she was taking it hard. She didn't look to him like a girl when they were sad. The girls he knew, including his sisters, cried and wailed for a day or two and then were fine. Olivia wasn't crying, she wasn't making a scene. She didn't look right though, he agreed with his sisters about that. He remembered something his dad had told him once. Something about how being a man was more about looking out for others who needed your help and less about proving yourself. He turned to Olivia, soda in hand, and stammered."I- I- I'msorryaboutyourfriend."

Olivia stood without moving. She barely knew how to compose herself everyday, much less talk about this with her partner's teenage son.

Sensing her awkwardness, or perhaps misinterpreting it, Dickie rushed to explainhimself. "Imean,Iheardabouthim,howhe,howhediedandyouweresadsoI'msorry." He looked sheepishly at his soda, wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

Forcing herself out of her shock, Olivia stammered "Uh, yeah, um, thanks Dickie. That means a lot." She gave him a small smile.

A little bit embolden by her response, he went on, still looking at his soda, "Um, I mean, my dad, he's trying to help too, and uh, I mean, we all want to help, but uh.." Forgetting what he was trying to say, and hoping that she got the point, his voice trailed off. He had heard Maureen and Kathleen talking about how their dad needing to jump on the Olivia wagon before it was too late and when he thought about it, he agreed. He also knew, unlike his sisters, that sometimes guys needed a push to talk to a girl about something. He could do that.

She did understand. She gave him a look that she hoped meant she understood. She nodded quietly. "Thank you. I appreciate that." She reached out and patted the boy on the shoulder. They both looked out from the kitchen across the bar into the living room. It felt awkward to Dickie, but he had a hard time deciphering why. Taking a chance, figuring things couldn't get much more awkward, he said "I think my dad wants to make you happy, like really wants to, like, I think he likes you."

"Uh, I, ah..." Olivia sputtered. "Well, I hope he likes me, he has to spend all day everyday with my sorry ass." She inwardly cringed for using the word 'ass' in front of Elliot's kid.

Dickie turned red, realizing he had probably broken some code of manhood that he hadn't been aware of. "I mean, we all like you, but it's different," he tried to cover his tracks. "I think he is trying to show you, um, show that, um show that you are more important to him."

It finally dawned on Olivia what Dickie was trying to tell her: that Elliot…ELLIOT, her Elliot, thought more of her than just a partner. She turned from Dickie dumbfounded and stared back at the man sitting watching TV with the girls. The two figures both stood staring, not moving. Olivia in shock over what Dickie had just communicated to her and Dickie embarrassed over saying too much. Just them Elliot looked up and saw the two still figures in the kitchen. Springing up he moved into the kitchen and grabbed Dickie around the neck in a wrestling move.

"You making a bigger mess in here? Because I know you can't ACTUALLY be helping clean up…" he joked with his son.

Seeing a cover, Olivia jumped in "Thank you for offering, Dickie, but I've got it in here. Go enjoy the movie." Dickie flashed her a knowing look of gratitude and exited the kitchen.

"Sorry, I hope he wasn't bothering you," Elliot said. He was perplexed a little over what was going on. He had looked up and caught both Olivia and his son looking like deer in the headlights. He hoped Dickie hadn't inadvertently made her feel bad. "Did he say something…?" His voiced trailed off.

Olivia mind was in a tailspin. 'Say something about what?' she thought. About Sean, about Elliot's feelings, about any myriad of other things? There was no way she was prepared to talk to Elliot about what Dickie ha said. She needed time to process. "No, no," she stammered, "we were just making small talk about his school." She new the lie was transparent and knew that Elliot could tell when she was lying, she just hoped he wouldn't push. She picked up some plates and focused her attention on washing them.

"Oh, yeah. Okay," Elliot replied. He said it in such a way that she knew he was leaving the topic open for another time. He picked up a plate and began to dry the clean dishes. They stood in silence this way until the dishes were clean. The movie was over and the older girls were gathering their things to do. Elliot poured her another glass of wine, basically ensuring she wouldn't sneak out to go home and moved to get sheets and blankets for the twins. Olivia didn't know what to do so she turned and leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. She sipped her glass of wine and closed her eyes, contemplating what Dickie had insinuated.

Was it possible? She thought about the night she had fallen asleep after their dinner. He had been so reassuring. She remembered the warmth of him leading her to the bed. Unbidden, her mind flashed back to the day she had gotten the news about Sean and how he had held her. She could feel his warm hand on her back as he held her. It almost gave her goosebumps. Was she reading too much into this? It was almost too much to contemplate. His overprotectiveness, their partnership, for good or ill. Before she knew it, the twins were hitting each other with pillows and Elliot had joined her in the kitchen. He grabbed another beer from the fridge and took a swig. He grinned at her.

"See, it wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.

She sighed, "No. It wasn't," she admitted. "I am going to go though, not all of us have the weekend off."

"I'll walk you out," he said, watching Olivia grab her things and say goodbye to the twins.

"Hey guys," he said to them, "I'm going to walk Olivia down, don't burn down the house while I'm gone." He turned and held the door open for Olivia.

She felt really awkward all of a sudden. She was reading into every move he made. He grabbed the door, was it a romantic gesture? He handed her her coat, what did that mean?

They stood on the front porch. Elliot was asking about a case at work and what she planned to do the next morning. They fell into an easy, familiar pattern as the anxiety of the night wore off of her. Suddenly a chill, wind blew by causing her to shiver.

Noticing a change in the atmosphere, both in the weather and in emotion, Elliot spoke.


End file.
